


Pale Moon Rising

by nottinghamroad



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Cameos, Fluff, Gay Mutant Road Trip, M/M, Mutant Politics, Mutant Registration Act, Mutant Rights, Protective Erik, Westchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 55,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottinghamroad/pseuds/nottinghamroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik are unknown mutants living together in New York City. Following an unsettling rally with other mutants in the city, they decide to gather and train as many young mutants across the nation at the peaceful Westchester property.  But when the twin spectres of a national Mutant Registration Act and the increasingly violent activities of a mutant terrorist group threaten their quiet and secluded existence, how are the Westchester mutants supposed to remain peaceful? Someone will have to take a stand.</p><p>Please note the graphic violence doesn't come until Chapter 20, and it is brief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rally

**Author's Note:**

> Looks like I'll be shooting for 22 chapters in this bad boy! May change the number later on, but I think everything is in its proper place, it just needs further beautifying. And not to worry, the fic will soon gain its M rating. ;)
> 
> I have a fantastic beta who is not currently on the A03 but is very patient with me and is an excellent person to bounce ideas off of and pushes my prose to be better and in general she's great. Check out her fanfic (mostly naruto) on hermadnessmac.tumblr.com. I beta her fics, so I know they're awesome. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles attend a mutant rally in New York City together and get a feel for the current state of affairs in the mutant world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you are, a newly revised chapter 1 of Pale Moon Rising. I have a completed fic for you guys which I will be posting chapter by chapter as I edit it and make it pretty. Thanks for reading, and do please leave a comment to tell me what you think.

Chapter 1  
“Are you sure we’re properly disguised?” Erik whispered furtively. Charles tapped his temple. 

“Telepath. Te-le-path. How many times do I have to tell you-I’m the best mental manipulator I know. We’re totally anonymous; they just find us to be a charming, yet uninteresting old married couple.” Charles slipped his arm through Erik’s, who still looked disgruntled. 

“Old? I’m not old yet!” he said, his thick brows knitting together. Charles turned to face his partner, suppressing an affectionate grin. 

“That’s why I made you the bald one. To give you some practice with people staring at your shiny round head.” Charles ruffled his hair, and Erik swatted his hand away. 

“Rubbish. If anyone is going to go bald in their old age, it’s you,” he retorted, twirling a finger in Charles’ carefully styled bangs. Charles looked appalled. 

“You prat! If you had any idea how much time I spent styling my hair for you in the morning…” Charles dramatically turned his head away from Erik, who put a hand to his heart in mock gratitude. Erik took the opportunity presented by Charles’ turned head and planted a kiss in his hair. Charles leaned into the kiss, but still tried to feign resentment with something mumbled along the lines of “making it worse”. 

“Ah, here we are, two empty seats.” Erik let up on his teasing and gestured to two seats in the back of the auditorium. He and Charles sat down and watched as droves of mutants flooded in. The pair then took up their favorite activity: people-watching. Charles had long had a knack for detecting the powers of other mutants. 

“Telekinetic. I’m sure of it,” Charles muttered as a girl with crimson hair cascading down her back walked by them with a flounce in her step. Erik smirked. 

“Telekinetic, and well aware of her beauty and her power,” he remarked snidely. 

“Not entirely a bad thing,” Charles shrugged. Erik elbowed him in the kidney. 

“You only say that because you’ve used both your mind-blowing power and equally earth-shattering good looks to get everything you’ve ever wanted.” Erik wasn’t being entirely flippant with his comments, and Charles picked up on it. He met Erik’s blue-green eyes with his own and cocked his head. 

“Took quite awhile to work on you, though.” 

“Well, I’m not just anyone, now am I?” Erik volleyed back, undeterred by Charles’ blatant fishing for compliments. Charles patted Erik’s knee. 

“Indeed, you were quite the difficult catch to land.” 

Erik tore his gaze from the front of the auditorium to look at Charles. 

“What, so I’m prey now?” he asked, his eyes glittering with humor. 

“A fine shark such as yourself? Certainly not.” Charles reassured him. Their banter was stopped short by a tiny woman taking the stage. She was dressed in a bit of a mousy pantsuit with a thin tie, but had a huge presence on the stage. The rest of the mutants quickly fell into a reverent silence at her presence. She seemed to exude an aura in between confidence and intimidation. Whichever it was, it was used to great effect. 

“Fellow mutants!” Her voice boomed out across the auditorium. Apparently she had no need for a microphone. “We have come together today to discuss the injustice of and formulate a response to the atrocities being committed against our mutant brothers and sisters all across the country.” The woman adjusted her tie and opened her mouth to continue what was clearly a prepared speech. 

“Step it up, Pryde!” an angry voice rose from the seated crowd. A young boy with spiky brown hair stood on top of his chair, fists clenched and glowing orange. 

Erik surveyed the kid, impressed. 

“Fire manipulation,” he muttered to Charles, who nodded. The boy’s fists had burst into small flames as he continued to shout. 

“You and McCoy are just alike. So convinced that diplomacy will get us anywhere with the humans. The time has come for someone to tell you you’re delusional!” A few voices gave supportive yells of approval. Including, to his own surprise, Erik. Kitty Pryde folded her arms and stared the heckler down. 

“There’s no reason to believe we just haven’t been working hard enough at it,” began Pryde reasonably. “We haven’t tried everything yet. We can do stronger negotiations and-” 

The fire-manipulator shook his head. “Stronger tactics, my ass! It’s time to give them a taste of their own medicine and see what it feels like to have one of their own kidnapped and tortured!” 

Charles felt their metal seats quiver slightly, and looked over at Erik. His jaw was set, and his eyes were glued to the fire-manipulator. More supportive yells were rising up from the crowd, and Pryde was struggling to regain control over it. 

“If you all could be bothered to shut the hell up!” Pryde raised her voice slightly, but it was not holding up against the increasing rancor of the crowd. She took off her tie in one smooth gesture and threw it to the ground. The lights in the hall slowly began flickering on and off, and then cracking with an intensity that made Charles and Erik’s hair stand on end. She rose several inches above the stage, hands out to her sides, and then closed them both in fists. The lights in the auditorium extinguished, and then turned back on after a beat. The crowd immediately quieted, and Kitty Pryde regained their attention. 

“Violence will only beget more violence!” she spat. “I have lost brothers and sisters like many of you in the wake of local Registration Acts. Believe me, I’d love to see the assholes who did it put six feet under. But we can’t give in to an endless cycle of retribution! Don’t you see? This is how world wars are started. Is that what you want? Further devastation?” 

It was at this point that Charles decided it would be best for him and Erik to leave. He took Erik’s arm and pulled him, unwilling, from his chair and out the door. The walk back to the flat would take about twenty minutes, hopefully long enough for the intense anger radiating from Erik’s being to calm down. Once they were out of earshot of the remaining mutant congregation, Charles placed a gentle hand on Erik’s shoulder. 

“Ok,” he said simply. “Let it out.” Erik drew a shaky breath, both of his hands balled into tight fists. 

“That-that tiny woman was offensive in her utter apathy against the scum that have been persecuting our kind for the past few months.” Erik spat the words out. Charles knit his brow. 

“Now, come on, she wasn’t that bad. Besides, I’ve met Kitty before. She’s sharp, quick, strategic, and even has a few ins with the government. If anyone is going to lead a group of rowdy city mutants into some form of organization, it may as well be her. She could very well be our best hope at peaceful reconciliation with humans who are really very nervous about our presence in society, and rightfully so,” Charles countered. Erik let out a derisive laugh. 

“Rightfully so? Charles, sometimes I feel like we don’t exist on the same plane of reality.” Erik rubbed his eyes wearily. Charles puffed up a little with anger. 

“Kitty is right, you know,” he retorted, “violence only begets more violence. If we just follow some twisted doctrine of reciprocity with the humans and what they’ve done to us, we will destroy any possibility of coexisting peacefully with them in the future. There will only be tension and outbursts and perhaps even war.” Charles took Erik’s shoulders so they were facing each other. “Is that what you want, Erik? War?” Erik gave Charles a heavy, hardened look. His grey eyes seemed to bore right through Charles, and Charles’ mind was invaded with Erik’s memories of Auschwitz, his mother’s death, and images of the chaos and tragedy of the Second World War. Charles released Erik’s shoulders and buried his face in his hands. Erik let out a sharp breath. 

“Seriously Charles? That comment and now the-” he violently tapped at his temple- “without permission?” Charles flushed beet red, terribly embarrassed he hadn’t exercised more self control. He buried his face in his hands, truly humiliated that he had let down his usual guard of not looking into Erik’s mind. 

“Erik, I’m so sorry, how terribly unfeeling of me,” he mumbled into his fingertips. Several tense moments passed. Eventually Erik curled his fingers around Charles’ and lifted them from his partner’s face. He kissed the fingertips on each of his hands. 

“Charles, I have seen the devastation and horror of war and I remember it much more clearly than I will ever care to tell.” The taller man spoke tenderly, a tone few others ever heard. He held Charles’ hands to his heart. “But I cannot and will not stand idly by and watch another group of people undergo unfair persecution for something they cannot help. Something they were born with. I can’t allow these mutants like us to feel as though they are defective because of their mutation, when it is really a shining, beautiful aspect of their being.” Charles gave a somewhat watery smile. 

“You should be a teacher,” he remarked quietly. “Students could use that kind of inspiration.” Erik looked surprised. 

“Inspiration?”

“Yes, Erik, that was inspiring.” 

A quietly pleased look from Erik. He kissed Charles’ palms once more and set them back at his side. Charles took Erik’s arm again and they continued towards their flat. 

“Surely there must be a way towards mutant reconciliation and integration without shedding innocent blood,” Charles said timidly. Erik pursed his lips. 

“I should hope so. All I know is, we won’t be able to continue just watching as things escalate.” 

Charles nodded in agreement. The pair pressed closer together as they walked, as if the closeness would prevent them from being harmed by the hostile world growing up around them.


	2. Coming home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles come home from the rally and discuss what they've seen and what should happen next. Mild domesticity and flirting ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's a freshened, expanded chapter 2. Will be reposting all the chapters I've already posted as I comb through this fic. As always, thank you very much for reading, comment to tell me what you think, and you're fantastic humans. 
> 
> Come find me [on tumblr](ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com)  
> and go read my beta's amazing work at [her tumblr](hermadnessmac.tumblr.com).
> 
> Thanks for being wonderful.

The city felt cavernous on their way home. New York City was often a wonderland with something new around every corner, and Charles and Erik had loved living there for the past year. Its expansiveness tucked into just over 300 square miles made it seem like there was room for every flavor of creature on the earth. But tonight, as the pair pressed together for warmth, the skyscrapers and apartment buildings seemed to press in on them in an almost claustrophobic manner. Charles hated that feeling of enclosure. Living in the big city was supposed to be about finding freedom and acceptance. Not about returning to feelings of isolation and of being marked out as a mutant again. 

They arrived at the door to their flat. Erik gently disentangled Charles’s arm from his own to unlock the door. The deadbolt clicked, and Erik put the key back in his pocket. Charles took both of the taller man’s hands in his own, preventing him from opening the door. Erik didn’t seem to mind, and they held hands for a few moments outside, taking comfort in one another’s immediacy. 

A couple of lone stars had managed to peek out from behind the dense wall of city clouds. Charles stared up at them, and Erik followed his gaze. Just a few bright lights in an otherwise cloudy sky. Erik’s hands were warm and strong in his own, and Charles squeezed them tightly. He slipped his hands out of Erik’s and drew himself up against the taller man’s chest. Erik accepted the embrace, and ran a hand up and down Charles’ back comfortingly while the other hand held him close. Charles inhaled Erik’s scent-part his cologne, part sandalwood, and part something sharp and metallic that felt like home nonetheless. Charles broke the embrace after several minutes and looked up at Erik, whose eyes glinted in what little moonlight had broken through the clouds. His Erik. His strong foundation. His equalizing force. The opposite bookend to a shared soul. It was time to step out of their enclosed existence. 

“Erik, I think it’s time for us to do something about the state of the world.” Erik raised his eyebrows at this. Charles bit the inside of his cheek and continued. 

“There are quite a lot-too many I would venture-of mutants who have spent their entire lives feeling like outcasts. I would like to do something about that.” Charles said, staring at the ground. He was aware of the grandiosity of that statement, and already felt embarrassed about it. Erik tipped up his chin and kissed him gently. They lingered for a moment, and parted only slightly so that Erik’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. 

“Well, we’re hardly new to that, are we,” he breathed. Charles nodded. 

“That’s why I want you by my side in this. I think we should take in mutants that have been cast out by their families and train them to hone their powers and to gain some confidence in their abilities.” The words tumbled out of Charles’ mouth before he could properly explain how he intended to accomplish all of this. Erik’s eyes were wide. 

“How many mutants do you propose we take in?” he asked, his jaw slightly slackened with shock. Charles bit his lip again, and searched Erik for some sign of hesitation. Some sign that this was more than they could take, more than they were capable of doing. He found none, but instead an apparently genuine concern for their physical capacity to serve other mutants. 

“I think it’s time I told you about my parent’s house in Westchester.” The pair went inside and Charles fixed them both a drink while Erik locked up and put away their jackets. 

“So you’re suggesting we live with your parents, are you?”

“They’re both dead, Erik, don’t be ridiculous.” 

“Only trying to lighten the mood a little.” 

“It would be something else to try to live with them, wouldn’t it.” Charles allowed himself a chuckle at the thought. 

“We’d have to sneak away, you and I.” 

“To my secret bedroom, and lock the doors so no one would come in.” 

“Have secret signals to keep our affair under wraps.” Erik had accepted his hot tea from Charles and they sat on the couch together, side by side. Charles slipped an arm around Erik’s waist. 

“Anyway.It’s a massive estate up north from here, and it’s got at least a dozen bedrooms plus a master suite.” Charles looked over at Erik, who seemed to be fixated on his lips and had rather lost the plot of the Westchester estate.

“A master suite? For the two of us, I would assume.” Erik waggled his eyebrows and took a sip of his tea.

“Erik Lehnsherr, I swear you are sometimes the most lecherous man I know.” 

“I’ll have to improve upon that, then.” Erik set down his tea and dotted a brief trail of kisses up Charles’s neck before Charles stopped him, determined to finish giving the information before the evening descended into a shag by the fireplace. 

“You-I-the estate is mine now-” Charles broke off while Erik began sucking gently at the spot where his neck met his shoulders. “No, Erik, please,” there was a note of desperation in his voice, and this appeared to have caught Erik’s attention. “This is important,” Charles informed his partner. Erik acquiesced and contented himself with sipping from his tea while Charles continued to explain. 

“The estate is mine now. It’s been empty for quite some time, but occasionally maintenance workers go up there to make sure the place doesn’t completely fall to pieces. We could very easily house mutants there. It’s secluded as well, no other houses around for at least a 5 mile radius. My parents were private, if nothing else.” Charles swilled his tea around in the cup, watching a few stray leaves settle. Erik seemed to be mulling things over in his head.

“This sounds perfect, Charles.” 

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that to get me to stop talking?” 

“No, I mean it.” Erik’s voice was sincere. “I think we could do this.” 

“Do you?” Charles took Erik’s hand and looked him in the eyes. 

“Yes. It’s perfect. Finally, a place to get away from the constant scrutiny of humans and live as a brotherhood!” Erik exulted, his eyes a bit faraway. Charles cocked his head. 

“We are human ourselves, Erik,” he countered. Erik smirked.

“Please, Charles, we’re far above them. Besides, you’re the one who never lets me forget about-” and here Erik tapped his temple in a perfect imitation of Charles flaunting his abilities. “And what human can do what I do for you at every special occasion?” Erik snapped his fingers and a small metal sculpture in the shape of a lily lifted from its place on the mantlepiece and floated next to Charles’ head. Charles snatched it out of the air and held it protectively at his side.

“My favorite gift you’ve ever given me,” he said fondly. Erik grinned. 

“With the two of us, it’s like our mutations are gifts instead of flaws.”

“We have always felt more comfortable around each other, haven’t we.” 

“You were the first person to actually like that I could control metal.” 

“That’s because it’s incredible, Erik.”

“I think that was probably when I fell in love with you in the first place.”  
There was a pregnant pause. Charles didn’t know what to say. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Erik’s cheek in the absence of words, and the taller man accepted the kiss.  
“Younger mutants would benefit greatly from unconditional acceptance. If we had only met a decade earlier.” The silence broke, and Erik finished his tea. He maneuvered himself to the opposite end of the couch, folded his hands behind his head and put his feet in Charles’ lap. Almost reflexively, Charles took off his socks and began massaging the taller man’s feet. Erik stretched into the touch and sighed with pleasure. 

“I hope you know what a gift you are to me, Erik,” Charles said quietly, massaging his thumb into Erik’s foot. Erik blushed, unsure of how to respond. They sat in silence for several minutes, Charles experimenting with different foot massage techniques and Erik making increasingly indecent noises in response. Until they decided their time would be better occupied by something other than foot massages altogether.


	3. Westchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik leave New York to go up to Westchester. Lots of domestic Cherik and fluff. I also take liberties with how far away Westchester is from NYC for the sake of better narrative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've fixed up and expanded this chapter. I believe I've mentioned that most of this fic is written, it just needs fixing and tying up. So hopefully updates should be more regular. <3

The next morning found Charles with rumpled hair and an empty space next to him in bed. He pouted and stared around the room for Erik. The only thing worse than not falling asleep next to Erik was not waking up to him. Mornings were bad enough as it was. What a prat. He may have continued in his petulance, but the steaming noise of the coffee machine in the kitchen was motivation enough to get out of bed. Charles rolled out of their rickety queen and wrapped the sheet around his shoulders. He stumbled into the kitchen to find Erik elegantly wrapped in a dressing-gown and sipping a steaming mug of coffee. Erik chuckled at the sight of Charles and handed him his own mug. Charles took it and deftly sipped the drink while still keeping the sheet around his shoulders. 

“So, when do we leave?” Erik asked, making Charles nearly spit out his freshly brewed nirvana. He waved a hand in a shooing motion and had Erik pass him a bagel. 

“We can leave once I feel like speaking to you rather than strangling you,” Charles mumbled. Erik kissed his matted hair, amused, and sat at their tiny kitchen table with the newspaper. Charles barely noticed his movement and stood sipping his coffee and staring at nothing in particular. As the volume of liquid decreased in his cup, he slowly felt his senses return to him. He emptied the cup, and Charles became aware of his scanty attire. It was kind of nice, this. The sheet was quite freeing, but not very secure. He shrugged and went back to their room to put on a dressing-gown. Upon returning to the kitchen, Charles took his bagel from the counter and began eating it at the table with Erik. Erik folded up the paper and looked across the table at his disheveled partner tucking into the bagel. He smiled fondly and took Charles’ free hand across the table. Charles smiled back, querying. 

“It’s nothing,” Erik said. “I enjoy waking up to you is all.” Charles kissed Erik’s hand and set it back on the table so he could clear his plate. He washed it merrily in the sink, always happy to be the focus of Erik’s affections. The stray crumbs and cream cheese from the bagel sank downwards, and Charles’ thoughts wandered. It was often difficult for him to discern the permanency of another person’s affections, as his past had shown him that those affections could change very easily. It’s silly of you to think Erik would be any different, a snarky voice chastised him. He’s volatile and passionate and will go once he finds people who agree with him. 

“No he won’t,” Charles muttered aloud. He jumped a little at Erik’s sudden appearance behind him, but leaned into the man’s embrace from behind. 

“What was that?” Erik murmured into Charles’ hair. Charles smiled and twisted slightly to kiss whatever bit of Erik he could reach. 

“Just the inner monologue making an outer appearance,” he said, the dishes forgotten. He set down his plate and began dropping small kisses along Erik’s jaw. Erik allowed him to continue for a moment and then released him so he could wash his own dishes. 

“So where are we getting a car?” asked Erik. 

“A car?” Charles answered blankly, thinking about the feel of Erik’s stubble on his lips. Erik chuckled. 

“Yes Charles, to pick up all the-” and here Charles cut him off, remembering. 

“Raven’s got a car,” he said abruptly. Erik looked at him, questioning. “My sister,” he clarified. Eriks’ widened in understanding. 

“Excellent, I’ve always wanted to meet Raven.”

“Promise me you’ll be nice to her.” 

“I’m always nice.” Erik widened his eyes innocently.

“Whatever, Raven could take you out in a second anyways.”

“You have picked up on the New York lingo, haven’t you?” 

“The kids at the uni say it all the time. Been wanting to try it out forever.” 

“You sound like an old man.” 

“You’re an old man.” 

“Are you going to call Raven, or are you going to come over here and teach me a lesson?” Erik waggled those stupid eyebrows at Charles again. Damn that man for making it so hard to stay focused. Charles pursed his lips. 

“I’ll give her a call.” Charles took his phone out and dialed Raven. Erik leaned against the wall as though he meant to listen in, but Charles took the phone call to another room. Erik gave a sigh of mock sadness and flopped down on the couch instead. 

March was typically quite chilly and overcast in the big city, but today saw the sun peeking through the clouds and shining full force through the living room/kitchen area in Erik and Charles’ flat. Erik scooted over to the end of the couch where the sun was shining and laid his head on the arm of the couch. The bite of March that had chilled their flat was alleviated significantly by the sun on his face. He stretched his legs out and quickly dozed off. The next thing he knew, Charles was kissing his forehead to gently rouse him. Erik screwed his eyes shut tight to banish the drowsiness as Charles pulled him up from the couch.

“Raven is going to meet us out in Westchester with the car. She’s excited to hear the details of what she has dubbed our ‘super secret plan’,” Charles informed his rousing partner, using air quotes for effect. “Have you got all your things?” Erik nodded and gestured to their bedroom. Charles went and retrieved both of their bags, and exited the flat to be greeted by a cab Charles had called earlier. An overexcitable man with dark hair and a thick German accent stood outside the cab to take their bags. 

“Kurt!” Erik exclaimed. He turned to face Charles, who offered him a huge beaming smile. 

“I thought you might like to be driven around by an old friend,” Charles said, and Erik kissed him on the cheek. Kurt took their bags and he and Erik began chattering merrily in fluent German for most of the ride up. Charles stretched out in the back of the car and put his head on Erik’s shoulder, enjoying the way his words resonated in his chest as he spoke. 

Charles adored living in New York City, but there was something soothing about leaving the bustle of the Big Apple behind to go and visit his family estate out in Westchester. The stop-and-go rhythm of the roads in the city quickly gave way to expansive, quiet highways lined with the upstate greenery that Charles held so near to his heart. Eventually the chatter between Kurt and Erik died down, and Charles vaguely felt Erik’s lips on his hair. He raised a hand and patted Erik’s face clumsily. 

The rest of the drive went quickly, between Kurt regaling them with stories from his latest circus tour and Erik and Charles napping and chattering about the direction their trip should take. When they finally arrived at Westchester, the day was slowly fading into the western horizon in a spectacular sunset. Charles immediately spotted Raven stretched out on a lawn chair and waved excitedly at her. She leapt up from the chair and sprinted over to ram Charles into a hug. 

“How’s my favorite Big City couple doing?” she squealed into Charles’ ear. He laughed and held her tight. 

“Very well, Raven. How have you been?” Charles broke the embrace so he could look her in the eyes and so Erik could come and join the conversation. She gave a conspiratorial smile and waved a hand above her head. A tall, gangly looking brunette man came walking out of the house. He wore a button-down shirt and neatly pressed slacks, and stopped halfway through his trek to get over to the group to shine his glasses on his shirt. 

“Erik, Charles, this is Hank! My boyfriend.” Raven took the gangly man’s arm and looked expectantly at her friends. Charles’ eyes went a bit wide, while Erik’s mouth was unabashedly agape. Once Charles registered the discomfort in Hank’s expression, he immediately adjusted his own and gently pushed Erik’s mouth shut. Charles extended his hand. 

“Very, very pleased to meet you Hank,” he said abruptly. “I’m chuffed to meet someone making my sister so happy.” Hank managed a tentative smile and shook Charles’ outstretched hand. Erik followed.

“Erm-yes, nice to meet you Hank. What are you studying at university?” Erik inquired. 

“Biophysics,” answered Hank promptly. “I’m very interested in how it applies to brain activity, specifically.” Charles raised an eyebrow. 

“I assume you know about my ability and my plans with Erik, then?” he asked, shooting Raven a glance. She shrugged.

“Yes, I do,” Hank admitted. “It’s just such a fascinating mutation and I was hoping I could talk to you about it if you’re amenable. Nothing invasive, of course, just to quench my curiosity.” Charles held up a hand. 

“Actually, I would very much like to discuss it with you,” Charles said slowly. “See, I can tell if someone is a mutant who is nearby and can find mutants within an approximately ten-mile radius. But that won’t be a wide enough net if we’re going to track down mutants all over the country.” Hank looked thoughtful. 

“I might actually know just the thing to help with that,” he said. Erik sensed this was his time to leave the conversation. He took Raven by the arm. 

“Come on,” he said, “I’ve always wanted to meet Charles’ famous sister. Let’s leave the scientists to their jabber.” 

“And I the famous partner!” Raven laughed and agreed. 

They walked into the Westchester mansion arm-in-arm and left Hank and Charles chattering animatedly.


	4. Target Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles locates mutants using Hank's helmet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've extended (a little) and cleaned up this chapter for your reading pleasure. Things are starting to take a little more shape. :) As always I appreciate your feedback.

Charles stared at the enormous white helmet, uncertain. It looked like one of those giant hair drying contraptions he had seen at hairdressers. Only this time with more wires poking out of it, and this time with a more threatening aura coming out of it. Though Charles supposed that could very well be his own aversion to being studied scientifically. No one liked feeling like a lab rat, he reasoned with himself. But Hank wasn’t going to treat him like a lab rat. They were partners in discovery, and were going to find things out on the same pace. He peered up at Hank, who was standing at the control panel. 

“Are you quite sure this is a good idea?” he asked the bespectacled scientist. Hank pushed his glasses further up on his nose. He was always doing that. Charles made a mental note to get the man to the eye doctor to tighten those up. He tapped his foot a little, waiting for Hank’s reassurance. 

“I’ve never had a telepath of your strength try it before, if that’s what you mean,” Hank pushed a few buttons on the control panel and flipped a switch. The cords leading into the helmet lit up, and Charles jumped backwards a little bit. Hank smirked. “It won’t damage you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he continued. “It might be a little painful until you get used to the sensation of your telepathy and location skills being broadcast to the world.” Charles bit the inside of his lip and looked over at Erik in the corner of the room. Telepathy skills broadcast all over the entire world. Right. This was what they wanted. This was what they needed to do to fulfill their joint goals. He searched Erik’s eyes for some reassurance. The blonde’s mouth was set in a stoic line, but his eyes were full of concern. Charles beckoned him over, and Erik obliged. 

“Now don’t make fun of me,” he muttered into Erik’s ear, “but I’m going to ask you to hold my hand while I do this.”

“Anything for my favorite little lab rat.” 

“Yeah, alright. One more comment like that and I won’t be cooking.” 

 

“Not like any of us would miss that.” 

“Oh, bugger off, you.” 

“You love me.”

“Just hold my hand, you giant prat.” Charles stuck out his left hand. Erik valiantly stifled a smirk, and took it. Satisfied, Charles placed the helmet on his head. 

“You alright?” Hank asked. Charles nodded. “Okay, when it is working, the machine will spit out the locations of the mutants you find in coordinate form,” Hank informed them further. Charles thought privately that he didn’t really care how it worked, just that it worked. And then his capability for wandering thought was expunged as the machine kicked into high gear. He felt himself focus with a laser-like intensity on detecting other mutants. Charles could find just about anyone using his mind. But mutants were different. Finding ordinary, non-mutants wasn’t exactly difficult, bit it could be a bit tricky. Sometimes they were like candelight, but candelight in the morning where it doesn’t stick out quite as much. There was something in them that glowed. Charles was never sure what it was about them that caused this quiet shining, but he knew what it looked like. 

Searching for mutants was different. He would retreat into his vast mind and survey living beings nearby, and they would dance delicately and slowly across his consciousness. Mutants burst across his mental sky like splintering yellow stars. They were radiant and blindingly beautiful. Their appearance in his consciousness caused a recognition in him, like a meeting of kindred souls. It caused more emotion to rise up in him than he was willing to admit. 

The experience of finding mutants using Hank’s helmet was amplified ten times beyond the norm. Charles was quickly witnessing a meteor shower behind his eyes as he found mutant after mutant. They were falling, falling, falling across his mind in brilliant bursts of light. A shout of joyful laughter escaped him, as the feeling of kindredness and community was quickly growing overpowering the more mutants he located. 

He focused his efforts and screwed his eyes shut. The sheer volume of his own kind that existed within the continental United States alone amazed him. Stars burst and fell and splintered across his vision until darkness descended upon his consciousness completely, and he felt himself sinking into something strong and familiar. 

________________

Erik carried the passed-out Charles to their room. He wasn’t sure whether he was more angry with Hank or worried for Charles. Stupid man. Charles should have known his limits. Erik should have recognized when Charles had been pushed too far. Hank had examined him closely and insisted that he was just knocked out from exertion, but Erik was still frustrated it had happened at all. He laid Charles out gently on their bed. Erik laid down beside him, gentle, firm, and protective. Several minutes passed. Erik didn’t move until he was content that the sound of Charles’ breathing was regular enough. It was at that point that he stretched out beside his partner and put a hand across his waist. Charles seemed to be honestly asleep at this point, and Erik was glad of that. 

The sparkling dust motes swirling from the window to the other side of the room provided plenty of visual entertainment for Erik as he waited for Charles to rouse. When he got the sense it was going to take several hours, he gingerly slid his feet off the bed and stood up. He couldn’t resist pressing a small kiss to Charles’ furrowed brow. The shorter man shifted slightly, but didn’t wake. 

Erik made his way back down to Westchester’s enormous kitchen. Hank was sitting at the table, bent over a scientific journal with a pen in hand. He jumped as Erik noisily pulled out a chair and sat down next to him. Erik surveyed the scientist. He wasn’t particularly well-muscled in this form. But if even a little of what Erik had heard was true regarding Hank’s Beast form, he was stronger than he looked. Apparently not strong enough in matters of common sense. It occurred to Erik that his glare in Hank’s direction must have been fairly intense as Hank was slowly pushing himself as far back in his chair as he could without being obvious. Hank pushed his glasses up on his nose. 

“How-how’s Charles?” he faltered slightly. Erik steepled his fingers under his chin and stared intently at Hank. 

“Why did you think that helmet was a good idea?” Erik’s voice was measured. 

“It was a good idea.” 

“Clearly not, or else he wouldn’t be passed out upstairs.” 

“You just aren’t aware of how the machine works,”Hank answered defensively. He cowered a bit at Erik’s answering glare. “It worked perfectly,” he continued in a decidedly smaller voice. “Charles exerted himself too much. He’ll be fine after he’s slept for a few hours. But now we have the coordinates of several hundred mutants across the country, and that is most certainly not nothing.” 

Erik leaned back in his chair, surprised that Hank had that much gusto in him about the helmet. And that he had successfully stood up to Erik, usually people with Hank’s demeanor were easily intimidated by his menacing gaze. Apparently Hank was less of a shrinking flower than Erik initially believed him to be. Erik folded his arms and leaned his chair forward once more, surveying the gangly scientist. Raven must have started to rub off on him. 

“Fine.” Erik said. A few moments of silence passed between them. Erik decided to give the boy a bit of a pass. “How did you come up with the idea for the helmet, anyhow?” 

Hank shrugged.

“Charles isn’t the first telepath I’ve met. He’s by far the strongest and most powerful, but there have been others at my college. We experimented.” Hank closed the journal he was reading. “How-how did you two meet?” he asked tentatively. Erik’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly. He examined Hank’s demeanor again, debating whether this was safe information to share. After several moments he decided that it was. Raven had likely told Hank about the nature of his relationship with Charles, and didn’t appear to be bothered by it. He recalled the night with relish as he relayed the details to Hank. 

“Lecture at NYU on unusual mutations in rodents. We were both interested in the subject matter. Charles caught me using my power once the event had cleared out, and we talked that entire night on mutant issues and rights and responsibilities.” The corners of Erik’s lips twitched upwards at the memory. He looked up at Hank. “And the rest, I suppose, is history.” Hank gave a tentative smile. 

“Well, Raven loves both of you very much. And I’ve been very glad to spend as much time with the two of you as I have and I, um, look forward to more of it.” The last few words spilled out of Hank’s mouth all at once and he refused to make eye contact with Erik. Erik patted his arm clumsily and left the table to go back up to Charles’ room. 

He entered the room to find Charles stirring and stretching on the bed. Erik laid down next to Charles and enveloped the shorter man in an embrace. Charles made a contented noise and snuggled into Erik’s grip. The pair laid there until they both fell asleep again, intertwined, until morning.


	5. Armando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik start their road trip. Their first mutant to pick up is none other than Armando Muñoz, who will later be known as Darwin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reworked, expanded, and beautified chapter for your reading pleasure. Darwin deserves lots and lots of screen time because he is wonderful.

Charles was first to stir the following morning. Heavy fog was hanging over the Westchester grounds, obscuring the view down the road. A bluejay flew busily past the window and came to roost on a nearby tree. Charles watched the bird with mild interest. He wasn’t able to read the minds of animals, per se, but he could get snatches from their consciousness if he focused hard enough. The jay looked like it had something on its mind, so Charles stretched out with his consciousness and it became the subject of Charles’ intense stare and concentration. 

Animal minds were always a cacophony of activity that Charles seldom understood. The most he could get out of this bird was an intense desire to get back to her warm nest. Poor dear. It must have been very chilly outside. 

As if stirred by Charles’ sympathy for the small bird, Erik roused and sat up next to his partner. He rubbed his hands on Charles’ shoulders and pulled him in close. 

“Feeling better then, love?” Erik asked quietly, pressing a kiss to the nape of Charles’ neck. Charles leaned in to the touch and nodded. Erik dug his thumbs into Charles’ shoulder blades and massaged them the way he knew Charles liked. The shorter man melted into his touch, his jaw going slightly slack as he relaxed. 

“When did we say we would leave?” Erik asked. “Hank was kind and loaded our luggage last night, so the car should be ready to go.” Charles turned around and broke Erik’s grip. He took the other man’s face in his hands and kissed him gently. 

“What’s the big hurry,” he muttered in between kisses, “when I can’t remember the last time you and I had a lie-in that lasted all day long.” Erik chuckled and gently broke Charles’ grasp. 

“Appealing as that is,” he said, and paused briefly to catch his breath as Charles had started to occupy himself with Erik’s neck. Erik closed his eyes. Damn that man. Summoning all the strength he had, he broke away from Charles again and tried again. “Appealing as that is, we really do need to get started.” Charles made an exaggerated whimpering sound and puffed out his lower lip. Erik allowed Charles to continue to kiss him, due in no small part to Charles’s attention to his bottom lip, exactly in the way Erik liked. It was a knock on the door from Raven that finally convinced the pair to get out of bed. 

“Come on, lovebirds,” she called through the door. “If you don’t leave now, you’re going to get caught in terrible traffic along the freeway.” Erik rolled out of bed, Charles mimicking his movements on the other side. Charles stood and stretched. 

“Well, you know me, Raven,” He smirked. “I’m sure I’ll find something to do if the traffic gets bad.” Raven made a gagging noise from the other side of the door. Charles and Erik laughed at the thumps of her footsteps sprinting back downstairs. 

She glowered at the two of them slightly once they finally arrived in the kitchen. Charles winked conspiratorially at his little sister, and she rolled her eyes. 

“I made you guys bagels and lox,” she said, gesturing to the refrigerator, “because I am a brilliant sister who doesn’t choose to scar her older brother with images that he’ll never get out of his head,” she said pointedly. Charles dropped a kiss on top of her head as he walked towards the refrigerator. 

“All in a day’s work, Raven my darling.” He retrieved his and Erik’s bagels from the fridge and blew a kiss to his sister and her boyfriend. “Be good, you two. We’ll call you when we arrive at the first stop.” Raven seemed like she was struggling with herself for a moment, and then she seemed to decide something and leapt up to enfold Charles in a hug. Charles grinned and held his little sister tightly. 

“Be safe,” she said, quiet enough for only him to hear. “I won’t forgive you if you get into it with any of these more powerful mutants and you don’t make it out.” Charles broke the embrace and held Raven by the shoulders. 

“We’ll be alright, sister. You know me,” he tapped his temple. “I’m always okay.” Raven nodded and gave a small smile. It seemed to give her a little further confidence. She was a tough bird when it came to facing the world, but any worries she had were always elevated when it came to family. They were all the other had left, after all. Charles released her and took Erik by the arm. They gave a last wave to Raven and Hank and exited the mansion out to the car. Erik’s eyes widened slightly when he realized the roof was down. 

“Didn’t realize this was a convertible, did you?” Charles winked at his partner. A boyishly happy smile spread across Erik’s face and he practically leapt into the driver’s seat. Charles grinned at Erik’s antics and climbed into the passenger seat. 

Erik exulted at the wind in his hair as they flew down the freeway. Charles watched him with vague amusement on his face. It was excellent to see Erik so happy, there were few things that brought him such a simple sense of joy. The trees lining the highway of upstate New York faded into a green blur as they drove down the deserted road. 

“So where’s our first stop?” Erik had to shout a bit to be heard over the dull roar of the wind. 

“Southwestern part of the state,” Charles replied, unfolding a map. “Jamestown, Biltmore Academy Boarding School.” Erik nodded. 

“So we’ll just stay on the thruway for awhile then?” Erik asked, and Charles nodded, pen in his teeth. They continued on the road in silence for several minutes, though the whistling of the wind as they flew along was more than enough to fill the silence. 

______

Charles began to settle deeper into his seat and propped his feet up on the dashboard. Erik smiled to himself, it always did make him happy to see Charles comfortable. 

There was something about his partner that had a calming effect on Erik. Charles himself wasn’t a particularly calm person. In fact, he could border on bombastic when he was trying to impress someone or when he was trying to annoy Raven. But if there was anything consistent about Charles Xavier, it was his sense of contentment. He always seemed to be grateful for the company he had, his lot in life, and best of all, for Erik. That still bewildered the metal-manipulator. Someone was grateful for his presence. Someone was consistently thankful for him. But not just someone, Charles. The world’s most brilliant and frustrating man loved Erik Lehnsherr. Sometimes he thought he might be able to exist on those facts alone. 

Erik often found himself frustrated with the slow pace at which his life seemed to move. After the failure of New York City’s local Mutant Registration Act, there had been a feeling of unease constantly brewing in the pit of his stomach. He felt that something ought to be done to prevent future atrocities against his mutant brothers and sisters, but was constantly at a loss. Confessing these fears to Charles had revealed to him that Charles felt the same way, and yet had an uncanny ability to be sure that the situation would right itself eventually. Charles’ optimism frustrated Erik sometimes, but it also encouraged him to take a less dark view of the world. And that was probably the best thing about Charles-he made Erik want to be a better man. 

Impulsively, Erik put a hand on Charles’ thigh, unsure of how else to express his affection. Charles gave Erik a questioning look, but realized quickly he wasn’t going to get an answer and settled for covering Erik’s hand with his own. 

They drove in silence for several hours, enjoying one another’s company. Once they reached the halfway point in their trek to Jamestown, Charles switched with Erik and took a turn driving so the taller man could take a nap. 

Eventually, the brick buildings and narrow roads of Jamestown began to rise up around them. Erik stirred as they passed the local church, and gestured for Charles to look at it. It was an understated building, nothing like the grand cathedrals in Germany that Erik was used to. But it still had a quiet air of beauty and sanctity that Erik had always liked about churches. The German man wasn’t sure what he believed about God, but he liked to know that there were holy things in the world. 

After about half an hour of getting lost on Jamestown’s winding roads, they arrived at Biltmore Academy. The building was a beautiful old colonial structure with smooth white columns framing the entrance and supporting the next floor. Charles deftly parallel-parked the car on the road that ran by the school, and nearly leapt out of the vehicle. He shot off a quick text to Raven and then winced like his head was bothering him.

“I can feel him already!” Charles exclaimed, touching his forefinger and middle finger to his temple. Erik followed him out as they made their way to the front of the building. A rotund, middle-aged woman with a short haircut greeted them at the front desk. It occurred to Erik that they had not worked out a plan to gain access to the young mutant here without raising any eyebrows. He looked over at Charles, who wore an inviting expression as he went and spoke to the secretary. 

“Yes, hello,” he greeted her warmly. “My name is Christopher McTaggart, and this is my colleague, Evan Darkholme,” he gestured to Erik. “We’re recruiters from New York University and are looking to speak with Armando Muñoz. Could you please tell us where we might find him?” Charles leaned on the front of her desk and bit his lip, half-hoping his charm would work but casting a psychic field over Erik and himself anyways. The woman seemed to lose coherency briefly before she shook her head and then nodded. 

“He’s, um,” she stuttered, “he’s out back on the basketball court.” Charles placed a hand over hers for a moment in gratitude. 

“Thank you ever so much. You’ve been a gem.” Charles turned on his heel and motioned for Erik to follow. Once they were out of earshot, Erik was unable to stifle a giggle. 

“That poor woman!” he hissed in Charles’ ear, still laughing. “She could barely keep it together under the combined force of your absurd blue eyes and that obscene mouth of yours. I didn’t know whether to be jealous or not.” Charles looked around them to see if anyone was coming, and then pulled Erik behind a column into a searing kiss. Once he let him go, he took Erik’s face into his hands and looked into those beautiful grey-green eyes. 

“You will never have reason to be jealous, love.” And with that Charles disappeared behind the column out towards the basketball court, leaving Erik scrambling after him and catching his breath. 

They stood side by side on the edge of the court, watching several boys playing a pickup game. 

“Which one is it?” muttered Erik. Charles pointed at a tall, well-built black teenager. The boy’s head was completely bald, and a thin sheen of sweat on his head shone in the sun as he went in for a jump shot. He made the basket, but then fell as he landed. It seemed he had twisted his ankle pretty harshly from the way he was rubbing at it and biting his lip. The force of his making the basket had caused the basketball hoop to start to pitch forward, and it fell rapidly before Erik or Charles could do anything about it. The boy rolled as far out of the way as he could, but his wrist was still right in the path of the falling basketball hoop.  
Just when the pair were expecting to hear the crack of broken bone from the weight of the basketball hoop, the young man’s wrist had turned to titanium in front of their eyes. The column connecting the base and the hoop itself glanced off his wrist harmlessly, and he immediately lifted it up to his face for examination. The wrist turned back to flesh and bone, apparently uninjured. 

“What the fuck was that?” One of the boys was staring at the formerly titanium wrist, his eyes wide and tinged with disgust. 

“Nothing,” Armando said quickly, rising to his feet. 

“Like hell it was nothing! You turned into some-some kind of metal!” The boy was gesturing wildly at Armando’s wrist, trying to articulate what he had just seen. 

“No I didn’t, the basketball hoop just missed me.” Armando held up his uninjured wrist as evidence.

“That’s a lie.” The boy was still staring at Armando, the cogs slowly turning in his head. His eyes widened as something dawned on him. “You’re one of them, aren’t you.” 

“No, I’m not, I promise,” Armando’s voice was slowly becoming tinged with panic. 

“You are though. You’re one of those-mutant scum.” The boy spat the slur at Armando’s feet, and waited for him to respond. 

“I promise, you didn’t see what you think you saw-”

“I know what I saw. I’m going to tell everyone we’ve got scum in our midst and you won’t last long here, just you wait.” The boy’s expression had turned into a disgusting sneer.

“Please don’t.” Armando’s voice was pleading now, losing any touch of bravado.” 

“Watch me. They’ll give me a medal, they will.”

“Please. You’ll never see it again-I can’t move schools again, please-”

“Freaks like you shouldn’t be in school with the rest of us.” The boy’s words were dripping venom now, and he stalked off the basketball court, leaving Armando alone in the middle of it. He buried his head in his hands for a moment, and seemed to collect himself as best he could. Charles made to go over to comfort him, but Erik stopped him short. 

“He has to come to us,” the blonde muttered. Charles sighed, but stayed put. Armando eventually noticed that he wasn’t completely alone on the basketball court, and steadily made his way over to Charles and Erik. 

“You two lost?” he said. 

“Looking for you, actually,” Charles ventured. Armando frowned shrewdly.

“Something I can help you with?” he folded his arms. 

“We think we could help you, actually. A name would be a good start,” Charles returned. He already knew the boy’s name, but could tell he was uncomfortable. 

“Armando Muñoz. And what could I possibly help you with.” Armando extended a hand to shake.

Charles took it enthusiastically. “Armando! What a pleasure it is to meet you! Charles Xavier, of the institute of the same name. If you would come with Erik and I, we have a lot to talk about and we would love to buy you lunch.” 

“Well, it’s not like I can stay here anymore.” Armando gestured around to the school. “Not after-well, you saw.” He agreed to go with them to a local pizza place. 

Two hours later, Charles had finished explaining the project at Westchester to Armando with a few instances of input from Erik, who was considerably less outgoing than his blue-eyed counterpart. Armando sat back in his seat, sipping his coke. 

“So I’m not alone after all,” he said, almost to himself. Charles felt a lump rising in his throat. He leaned forward so as to make eye contact with Armando. 

“No. You are most certainly not alone.” Charles said earnestly. Erik followed Charles’ gaze and tried to portray his concern for the young boy as much as he could. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel a level of protectiveness over the young man. In fact, Erik felt some level of protectiveness over any mutant that he met after the Mutant Registration catastrophe in New York City. But the outward expression of this caring was difficult to muster, and he hoped Charles was mustering enough for both of them. 

Armando finished the coke and set it back down on the table. 

“I’m in, then. I-well. Those guys are going to tell the administration and I’m going to be kicked out anyways, just like the last school. And the last one, and the last one, and, well. You must know how it goes.” He spoke as if he was sentenced to social ostracization for the rest of his life. That gutted Charles. 

“I’m going to call a good friend of mine who is also like you to drive you up to my house in Westchester.” Charles took out his phone. Armando looked dismayed. 

“You guys aren’t coming with me?” he asked. Charles had already begun jabbering to Kurt on the phone, so it was up to Erik to explain. 

“There are-there are many others like you all over the country,” Erik said carefully. “We’re going to go and gather as many of them as we can and bring them to Westchester to live in community with one another. We’ll be back.” That explanation seemed to pacify Armando. Charles hung up the phone with Kurt, and turned to face the young man in front of him again. 

“Kurt Wagner is a very dear friend of both Erik and myself. He’ll arrive here in half an hour to take you to Westchester. In the meantime, if you don’t mind, I’d love to hear about when your mutation first manifested.” Charles explained, and then cradled his face in his hand, waiting for Armando to start talking. 

The boy surveyed Charles and Erik for a few moments, and then launched into an explanation of when he first knew he had his powers. His voice gained more confidence as he spoke and as Charles and Erik actively engaged. He seemed to be encouraged that there were people who thought his mutation might in fact be a source of pride, rather than a blemish on his already difficult existence.


	6. Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik recruit one Miss Angel Salvadore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright updated and beautified Angel chapter for you all! Please let me know what you think in comments, I had a fantastic time writing for Angel as she is a fantastic character. 
> 
> As always, do come and shout to me about these stupid mutant boyfriends on [tumblr](ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com), I love love love making friends with other fic writers and enthusiasts. 
> 
> And go read my [beta's](hermadnessmac.tumblr.com) work as well, she's amazing.

Angel Salvadore turned, studying her reflection in the mirror. Cinnamon eyes critically scanned the fit of the beaded bra and skirt that served as her uniform at the club, searching for the elusive missing piece to her ensemble.

The outfit itself was perfect for its intended purpose: flaunting her form while simultaneously concealing enough to keep the boys drooling. Although there wasn’t enough to her top to be considered anything other than a bra, the two pieces of fabric cloaked a decent portion of her upper torso before clicking into place between her breasts, the result exposing just enough cleavage to be tempting. It wasn’t the skirt she had a problem with either, Lord knows it did its job thoroughly enough. With a coquettish smile she experimentally swirled and dipped her hips to an imaginary beat, enjoying the way the waistline skimmed over her wide-flared hips even without an audience to watch her performance.

Annoyance quickly replaced her good mood, however, and she brought one heeled boot down in an irritated clack. Regardless of how smoking her small, lithe frame appeared in her knee-high boots, bra, and skirt--and she was smokin’, have no doubt--something was still missing--ah!

Triumphantly, she reached for a pair of long earrings with a peacock feather at the center and small black beads hanging from the bottom. Exotic, striking, and a perfect complement to the intriguing wing-shaped “tattoos” that adorned her bronzed skin. 

A pair of cold hands slipped around her bare middle and drew her in. Barely concealing an eye-roll, Angel utilized years of escaping the lecherous hands of horny men and immediately swirled out of the man’s grip, faced him confidently with an upturned chin, and placed her hands on her hips. In front of her stood the beady-eyed Sebastian Shaw. He extended his hands, motioning for her to come into his arms. 

“Sorry Sebastian, I don’t come cheap,” she chastised the sandy-haired man, lips twitching and eyebrows raising in a forbidding, provocative manner. 

A lewd smile spread across his thin lips and he folded his arms. “Why the frigidity now, Angel?” he asked. “You practically give it away on the stage every night, I didn’t expect this sudden burst of-” his lip curled cruelly “ _dignity_ from you.” 

_Oh, hell no._ Angel pursed her lips, closed the gap between them in a single stride, and took the collar of his coat in her hands, drawing them face to face. 

“Honey, just because you can see it and you want it doesn’t mean you can have it.” There was an edge to her voice and she made sure her message was heard loud and clear. Sebastian put a hand in his pocket and drew out a wad of cash, fanning it out. Angel took the money in her fist, crumpled it up, and sprinkled it over Shaw’s narrow shoulders. 

“Sweetheart, there isn’t enough money in the world.” Barely pausing to register Shaw’s gaping expression, she spun on the heel of her gorgeous knee-high boots and sauntered out of the green room and on stage. 

The stage. Now that was her element. Legions of drunk, desperate twenty-somethings packed themselves in three deep around her stage to admire her acrobatics on the pole, and her alluring natural rhythm to the hottest Latin dance music the city had to offer. She lowered her hips to the ground periodically to give the plastered bastards a chance to stuff singles in her waistband and, for the enterprising horndog, in her bra strap. 

The album providing the soundtrack for her set reached the middle of the track listing, and she could feel the night reaching a fever pitch. The crowd wadded up their singles and threw them on stage when they couldn’t get close enough to her. She skimmed a hand down the pole provocatively and leapt upwards, hitching both of her legs on it to move into a particularly impressive spin. One of the more vocal attendees’ voice broke and his cheering suddenly slid up an octave. It was all Angel could do to keep from laughing as she lowered her body back down onto the ground. 

Her stage session closed with its usual fanfare and confetti finish. A couple of pieces of confetti somehow made their way into her nostrils, and she fought valiantly not to sneeze until she had made it backstage. Once the coast was clear, she let loose a massive sneeze right in the face of a startled Erik Lehnsherr. 

“Holy shit, I am so sorry, sir!” she cursed, grabbing a nearby tissue and handing it to him. Erik accepted it and dabbed delicately at his face. Charles stifled a laugh and extended his hand to the raven-haired beauty. 

“Charles Xavier,” he offered. “The man whose face you have graced with your spittle is my partner, Erik Lehnsherr. We work for a school for gifted individuals like yourself.” Charles’ eyes were wide and appeared innocent, but Angel was no fool and immediately grew suspicious. _This guy couldn’t be for real._ She folded her arms and narrowed her ochre eyes. 

“What makes you think I’m _gifted_ ,” she spat. “Don’t think you’re the first guys to try to recruit me for a ‘special program.’ If you’re after a private session, talk to my bouncer. Otherwise, get lost.” She pushed by the two men and made for the door. Before she made it out, Erik’s fingers snapped behind her. The pewter vase of flowers next to the door jumped smartly into midair and floated to greet her at the door. 

“I would make one of the flowers present itself to you, but unfortunately there’s not enough iron in the stem,” Erik said lightly, waving a finger and guiding the vase back to the table. Angel turned slowly and folded her arms. 

“Is this some kind of trick?” She eyed the two men in front of her, trying to get a read on them. They didn’t have the same over-confident air as her usual harassers who were just looking to score. But something was still putting her off. 

“No tricks,” Erik replied calmly. “I have a mutation in my DNA that allows me to control metal.” He snapped again and beckoned at the vase to come his way. The metal container obliged and Erik snatched it out of midair. Angel watched the vase float gently through the air, finding it difficult to hide her fascination. She turned her steely gaze to the brunette. 

“And what about you,” she asked, injecting a touch of demandingness into her voice. “What’s your special trick?” Charles smiled and tapped his right temple with the same hand. 

_I can look into your mind and read your thoughts._ Angel leapt backwards about a foot once she realized that Charles’ voice had pushed itself into her head and he had not actually spoken aloud. 

“That’s messed up,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at Charles. “You can’t just go poking around in people’s minds without asking them first. The light in Charles’ eyes faded a bit and he bowed his head. 

“You’re right,” he apologized, “I do need to find a better way of showing people how my power works.” Angel shifted all her weight to her right foot and twirled a strand of hair in her hand. The problem with her...ability was that it betrayed her in her show of complete confidence. She was completely confident in her job, mind you, but had never had the luxury of being completely confident in people. And here these two men were, showing up on her proverbial doorstep and confirming the hunch she had all along that she wasn’t the only one who could do things that were….out of the ordinary. She could sense either immense potential or immense pain coming out of this situation, and found herself unable to believe in one or the other. 

“Alright, well, I guess I can show you mine,” she drawled, flipping her hair over her shoulder with an air of false bravado. A crinkling, unfolding sound slowly drifted through the room, and a pair of gossamer, dragonfly-like wings were protruding from Angel’s back where her tattoo had been. Erik’s expression remained stoic, but Charles couldn’t hide his enthusiasm. He burst into applause. 

“Oh, well done, Angel! Can you-” he motioned upwards and Angel obliged, fluttering a few inches above the ground. She loved the feeling of being suspended, weightless, and was slightly encouraged that Charles and Erik seemed to be enjoying it as well. And not in a voyeuristic way either, but actually marveling at _her_. Not her body, not her breasts, but at her ability, something that was uniquely and wholly a part of her very soul. She performed a graceful little flip in midair. Charles cheered, and Erik even cracked a smile. She drifted back down to the ground and folded her wings into her back once more. 

“So there’s more like me then, huh?” Her guard had lowered slightly. Charles stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched a little, but allowed his hand to stay there. 

“So many more, Angel. So many more.” He made eye contact with her. “We are gathering as many as we possibly can at an estate I own in Westchester. We want to gather you all together and teach you there to hone and refine your gifts, as well as provide you with a basic education.” Charles stepped back once more and put his hands in his pockets, waiting for a response. Angel considered his offer. She wanted to believe that he was for real, that this vaguely utopian-sounding idea was real, but she was more than a little suspicious. 

“I’ll have a place to stay?” she asked, thinking of her current boxy, uncomfortable bed frame. It would be nice to sleep somewhere that didn’t feel like sleeping on steel scaffolding. 

Yes!” Charles responded enthusiastically. “Your own room, and hot meals, and the company of people who are like you. No more isolation, Angel.” Angel looked into Charles’ clear blue eyes. There seemed to be honesty in them. Also a slight measure of duplicitousness, but that might just be her lingering distrust from him using his power on her without permission. She looked from Charles to Erik and back again to Charles. He was asking her to leave her entire life behind. It wasn’t like her life here was that great. It paid the bills, she loved the dancing, but the rest of it was shoddy at best. But it was familiar. She knew how to navigate it. Angel had never met other mutants before tonight, so how the hell was she supposed to know how to navigate _living_ with them? 

It transpired moments later that Angel had said that last sentence aloud. Charles was suddenly holding both of her shoulders and looking her in the eyes with a level of compassion that bordered on parental. She jerked out of his grip but didn’t step backwards, still wary of being touched by strangers. Charles didn’t object to her sudden movements. 

“I can’t promise it will be easy, Angel,” Charles spoke softly. “It won’t be easy. But I’m hoping it will feel like home. I think it will feel like home.” She knew they were platitudes designed to convince her. But there had to be something to finally being among her own people. Angel felt something resolve within her. Yeah, it was a risk going with these two strangers. But when had her life ever been safe? 

“I’m in,” she said, proffering a hand for Charles and Erik to shake. Charles took it first and shook her hand enthusiastically. 

“We’ll be absolutely thrilled to have you, Angel!” He continued pumping her hand up and down until Erik gently took her hand from Charles and shook it himself. 

“Our friend Kurt Wagner will be here momentarily to pick you up and take you to the estate,” Erik informed her. Angel nodded. Better grab her pepper spray, just in case this Kurt Wagner type turned out to be a creep. 

“I need a minute to get my stuff, then.” Angel cut briskly through Charles and Erik to her closet where she withdrew a black duffel in which she began stuffing some clothes and a few other essentials. The clothes never meant much beyond the show. They served a purpose-eliciting a reaction, and they served that purpose well. But beyond that it was all just transport. Angel never felt much of a visceral connection to what she wore. Or even to her physical features aside from her wings, for that matter. There were things that mattered more than her everyday outfits. Maybe now she was finally going to get to explore those things. 

Kurt had arrived once she had finished, and Charles and Erik saw her off with the reassurance that Darwin would be waiting there, as would Raven and Hank. Kurt greeted her in his usual overjoyed manner with kisses on both cheeks. She smiled thinly and patted his shoulder, stuffing her hand in her pocket later to close around the pepper spray. 

And just like that, Charles and Erik found themselves on the road once more. Erik drove for awhile, while Charles leaned his seat back and put his feet up on the dashboard. The shorter man folded his hands over his middle and sighed contentedly. 

“I never dreamed this would go so well.” Charles’ eyes were nearly shut as he spoke. Erik reached a hand over and put it on top of Charles’. 

“We’re only two in, so don’t get too excited.” Erik drew his hand back briefly as he had just received a swat from Charles. He chuckled. “But yes, it has been going well,” he amended. Charles took Erik’s hand back into his own and kissed his palm. The pair met eyes for a brief moment, and then Charles settled back into his chair with Erik’s hand in his, placed directly over his heart. 

They drove in contented silence for about an hour, which was how long it took for Charles to truly fall asleep and start erupting into noisy snores. Erik gently withdrew his hand from Charles’ grasp and looked at the next item on their list of locations. He programmed the coordinates into the GPS and looked at the estimated time. Four hour’s drive from this location. Not terrible. Enough time to allow his thoughts to rearrange themselves before dealing with another young mutant. 

What they were doing-going out and recruiting young mutants-was an incredibly intimate task, one that very quickly drained Erik of what little emotional energy he had each time they met a new one. It was a dangerous, personal thing to reveal one’s powers to a stranger, much less ask that stranger to leave behind everything to come and live in a new place. It had been successful so far, but still. Erik was glad to have a little peace and quiet as the city streets fell away behind him and gave way to a long stretch of interstate highway. 

He drove in silence for several hours, allowing himself to pore over the details of the trips to see Angel and Darwin and try to convince himself that the next few would be just as successful as the last. Charles shifted somewhat in his sleep, and Erik couldn’t help reaching over to smooth out the furrows in between the smaller man’s eyebrows. Charles always concentrated so hard while he was sleeping. 

Even while passed out in the front seat of the car, Charles still managed to be a calming presence in Erik’s life. His quiet assurance that things would work themselves out was a constant undercurrent in everything that he said and did, and Erik admired that. Charles had a deep and abiding faith in other people, and that was something Erik wanted to be able to have. In the meantime, though, he would have to make do with riding on the coattails of Charles’ faith. 

The long, straight highway eventually started to give way back to stoplights and country roads. Erik took another look at the GPS to make sure he was going in the correct direction. The icon on the map looked a bit foreign, so Erik zoomed in on it to see where their final destination would be. 

“A maximum security prison, Charles?” Charles jerked awake at Erik’s exclamation. “What were you thinking? How on earth are we supposed to get in there without causing a stir? And what are we doing recruiting a mutant who is currently in prison? Hardly fits your idyllic vision of a utopian society!” Erik had a small bit of panic in his eyes, which Charles knew to be related to his own past experiences with the authorities rather than any actual discomfort with recruiting a mutant outlaw. 

“Erik, I would like to remind you that I am, in fact, the most powerful telepath I know.” Charles took Erik’s hand again and kissed his fingers. “I understand that the prison seems like it will be a bit of a reach for us, but I assure you, I have yet to meet a security guard I couldn’t fool.” Erik accepted the kisses but still looked unconvinced. Time was running short to continue arguing with Charles, however, as the prison’s bleak buildings loomed in front of the car. 

Erik pulled into the parking lot. Charles exited the car before him, straightening his tie and rubbing his hands together in anticipation.


	7. Alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik pick up Alex Summers at the prison where he's being held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look!! New content finally!! As always, thanks for reading and please let me know what you think in comments. 
> 
> WARNING for this chapter: use of a homophobic slur partway through.

Warning: homophobic slur used in this chapter. 

The inside of the prison looked just as dark and menacing as the outside. A steel desk sat just inside the main doors, protected by a pane of glass that had a microphone attached to the outside in order to communicate with visitors. Erik watched Charles’ face scrunch in a familiar expression of concentration and a followed the corresponding slackening in the face of the man behind the pane of glass. Apparently he didn’t feel like turning on the charm this tiem around. Charles sauntered up to the desk and addressed the man. 

“William Henry, here to assess Alex Summers for release,” his voice was clipped, and the man behind the glass nodded blankly. He pushed a button underneath the desk and the door opened to the holding areas. Charles thanked the man and took Erik’s elbow as they made their way back to the cells. Erik wriggled out of Charles’ grip. 

“That man is still watching us,” he hissed. Charles shrugged, but allowed Erik to remain out of his grasp. Sometimes Charles made Erik a little nervous with his reckless displays of affection. 

“I went a little overboard in making him more pliable and now he’s going to spend the next several hours thinking about his dog digging increasingly larger holes in the backyard. He’s not thinking about us, Erik.” Charles had a smug little look on his face that he got whenever he had done something he thought was particularly clever with his power. Erik always wanted to kiss that smirk right off of his face, but refrained. They were still in public. 

“Ah, Charles? How are we going to find his cell?” It had occurred to Erik that they were wandering around in a high-security prison with no idea where to look for things. But even as he asked the question he knew it was a stupid one, as Charles responded only by tapping his temple once more. He ought to be used to the extent of Charles’ powers by now, but he often forgot how much Charles could do. As their relationship had progressed, Charles had grown in his consideration for Erik. He would always ask for permission before looking inside Erik’s mind, but rarely looked anyways, saying he preferred for Erik to reveal things himself. Charles rarely talked about the more powerful aspects of his mutation. Erik suspected it was out of some misplaced desire to not intimidate him. 

“I can sense him, he’s down in solitary.” Charles’ face had fallen from its initial excitement, and he had knit his brow once more. “God, he’s so lonely.” 

“Solitary will do that to you.” Erik’s remark hung in the air for a moment, and Charles turned to him briefly, his eyes heavy. The brunette wrapped Erik in a brief hug. He said nothing, but Erik figured it would probably come up later.

Charles led them down a set of stairs and down a hall. He stopped in front of the last cell block on the row. It was at this point that Charles suddenly looked lost. He raised a fist to knock on the door, and then let it fall back to his side. 

“What kind of greeting is this?” Charles fretted aloud, looking to Erik for support. Erik got the feeling that there was quite a bit more Charles wanted to say on the subject, but he was unable to properly voice it. So the taller man knocked on the door with heavy, loud knocks three times. 

“I told you, I like solitary! Stop trying to change my mind!” A voice drifted through the door, deep and resonant at first but rising to an involuntary squeak at the end. Erik couldn’t suppress a smirk. The kid was a stubborn loner, not unlike himself. Excellent. He twisted a hand lazily in the air and the door to the cell swung open. 

Alex Summers lay on his cell bed, clothed in the garish bright orange uniform of a prisoner. His mop of light blonde hair was askew and his bangs were settled in one of his eyes. Erik thought privately that he was the very picture of a moody teenager. Alex sat up in his bed and hid his surprise at seeing Erik and Charles quite poorly. 

“You’re making a mistake, standing there with that door wide open. I’m one of the dangerous ones, haven’t they told you?” The prisoner folded his arms. 

“What landed you in here, anyways?” Erik mimicked Alex’s stance. 

“Blew up my house,” The prisoner’s voice was guarded, but there was a tinge of defiant pride in his voice. 

“Well, I’m certain they deserved it.” Erik’s voice was biting.

“They did.” 

“Sure you taught them a good lesson.” 

“You don’t know anything about me.” Alex narrowed his eyes.

“I know you’re like me and my friend here,” Erik snapped his fingers and Alex toppled over sideways back onto his bed as it rose into the air. Steel frames. God, Erik loved steel-frame beds. Alex righted himself once more on the bed, only to fall off of it completely once Erik let it crash back down to the floor. He regarded Erik with a bit more respect now, and turned his eyes on Charles. 

“So what’s your superpower, then?” 

Charles steepled his fingers beneath his chin and fixed his eyes on Alex, who looked blown backwards a bit. Erik figured Charles must be saying something directly into the teenager’s mind. 

“Great. A telepath. I didn’t think ya’ll were real.” Alex rubbed his temples. “So are you two done trying to put me in my place, or do you want to throw my bed around a bit more and make me think I’m two years old and off to preschool?” Charles stepped forward. 

“We’re here to talk to you about joining our academy for gifted individuals like yourself,” Charles began, but Alex cut him off. 

“ _Our_ academy? What are you two, a pair of homos?” He looked from Erik to Charles. Erik blanched, but Charles came to the rescue very quickly. 

“Naturally when I said ‘our’, I meant that Erik and I run the academy together and carry out teaching together. No need to make assumptions, Alex,” Charles’ voice bordered on patronizing, and it shut the prisoner up. 

“So what, does this mean I get out of this hellhole then?” Alex looked up at Charles. 

“We’ll expect you to maintain decent conduct, but yes. You’ll come to live at my estate in Westchester, and there will be other mutants there with whom you’ll learn how to control your powers and how to refine them.” Charles folded his arms and shifted his weight onto his back foot. 

“I’ll do anything to get out of this godforsaken place. How do I sign up?” Alex leapt from the bed.

“We’ll have my friend, Kurt Wagner, come and get you and take you to the estate.” Charles offered a hand. “We’ll see you there in a short while.” Alex shook Charles’ hand and then turned to Erik to shake his hand. Erik gripped the boy’s hand a little firmer than was necessary and bid him farewell.   
_______  
The pair spent that night in a musty motel outside of town. Erik’s head was swirling, unpleasant memories from his own stint in a jail cell clouding his consciousness and making it difficult to sit still. He was perched on the bed, flipping through a newspaper and having trouble getting comfortable. God, this place was so beaten down. As if it wasn’t hard enough already to block out these bad memories. 

“Couldn’t you have mind-tricked your way into a suite for us or something?” he groused, fluffing up the pillow on the rickety old queen bed. 

“I’m not a thief, Erik,” Charles said absently, pulling out a pair of clean boxer shorts from his duffel bag. Erik smirked. 

“Not a thief? So that’s where you draw the line? You’ll damage the minds of people you don’t like permanently, but you won’t steal a little bit of money to get us a nicer room for the night?” Erik’s tone was amused. He approached Charles slowly, deciding that now would be a good time to stop all the seriousness. He took the boxer shorts from him, and flicked them across the room. Charles swatted his shoulder and shrugged. 

“Got to have standards somewhere, I suppose,” he answered, the last bit of his sentence dropping off as he got distracted looking into Erik’s grey-blue eyes. Erik dipped his head, ready for a distraction, and pressed a kiss to Charles’ ridiculously red lips. 

“It verges on a bit ridiculous how pretty you are,” Erik remarked, focusing his attention on the smooth column of Charles’ throat for a few moments. God, he loved the way Charles’ breath caught in his throat when he mouthed at the area where Charles’ neck met his shoulders. He felt Charles take a steadying breath beneath his lips. 

“What did you mean today when you said ‘Solitary will do that to you?’”

Erik pulled back. 

“I didn’t mean to bring that up at all,” he snapped. “I just identified with the kid a bit was all.” 

“Identified with him? Yeah, your empathy really showed when you were scaring the shit out of him, making his bed fly around the room.”

“It wasn’t _flying_ , I just lifted it a few feet to make a point.”

“Yes, the point being that you fancy yourself tougher than him.”

“I _am_ tougher than him. He’s a punk of a kid who can’t control his power long enough to avoid destroying buildings, for god’s sake!” Erik’s voice had risen a little more than he intended. He sat down on the bed and allowed himself to tip onto his back. walked to the other side of the bed and laid down opposite Erik so that their heads were next to each other. 

“He’s not a punk, Erik. He’s a lost soul who desperately needs the community of other mutants. Come now, you know it’s true.” Charles flipped over on his stomach so he could tangle a few fingers in Erik’s hair. The taller man closed his eyes, enjoying the touch. 

“You can’t pretend he didn’t irritate you though,” Erik said, eyes still shut. 

“He was a bit irritating, yes,” Charles allowed. “But then again, I can’t think of any of us who weren’t irritating at that age.” 

“Fair enough,” Erik let Charles win this one. They sat in silence like this for several minutes, Charles gently combing through Erik’s hair and Erik pressing into the touch as much as he could. Erik broke the silence first this time. His eyes flickered open.

“I was in solitary after the war. Dr. Schmidt had convinced the Allies after liberation that I was dangerous, had destroyed multiple bunkers full of innocent families, and needed to be contained. Stayed there for about a year, and nearly went insane from it all.” Erik’s voice was flat. He didn’t like discussing his past, but Charles deserved to know that much. 

“Erik, I’m so sorry,” Charles voice had gone husky. 

“Don’t apologize. Just thought you should know.” Erik shut his eyes again, willing Charles to continue with the running his fingers through his hair. The brunette did. 

“You’re a good man, Erik Lehnsherr,” Charles murmured, tracing the gentle waves that ran through Erik’s hair. 

“You can’t know that.” Erik folded his hands over his stomach. 

“I do though,” Charles assured him. The taller man flipped over as well to look Charles in the eye. 

“Alex almost had us figured out earlier,” he said. 

“No he didn’t,” Charles said easily. “He was just trying to rile us up, and that’s something teenagers say to try to assert their dominance.” Erik wasn’t convinced.

“But we blanched,” he pushed. “We completely blanched and he’s probably suspicious now.” 

“It’s fine, Erik, nothing is going to happen.” Charles’ voice bordered on dismissive, and it was starting to irritate Erik. 

“It’s illegal, Charles. You and I. Our relationship is illegal, and the last thing the two of us need is to be thrown in jail and then for the world to realize that not only are we mutants, but we’re-we’re-” Erik waved his hands in the air. 

“In love,” Charles supplied. Erik stared at him. “Well, isn’t that the case?” Charles took Erik’s hand. “I love you, Erik. And I know you love me too.” 

Erik stared down at their clasped hands. “More than anything,” he mumbled. 

“Then it’s not our fault that the rest of the world doesn’t understand that,” Charles said decisively. “We’ll figure it out, Erik. We always have.” 

And although every sensible bone in his body was telling Erik that there was no way Charles could know that, a tiny sliver of his heart believed him.


	8. Sean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik go to a choir concert, where they come upon the talents of one Sean Cassidy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've now got the mutants together, so it's time to head to Westchester to begin training! As always, please leave a comment to let me know what you think, your feedback is always appreciated. 
> 
> Also as always, go check out [my beta's](hermadnessmac.tumblr.com) writing, and do come and find me [on tumblr](ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com) if you are the tumbling type. Thanks for reading. :)

Note: I know that usually boys who sing soprano are young, and that men with high voices may more commonly be called countertenors or something else, stick with me. It’s for a purpose. :) 

The following day found Charles and Erik attending a choir concert one town over from the prison where they had extracted Alex. Ostensibly their next mutant would be here. Erik was confused as to why they needed to attend the entire concert, and asked Charles repeatedly why they couldn’t just corner the kid beforehand and have him out of there and up at Westchester in 15 minutes. That would be far more efficient. 

“It’s his _final concert_ Erik. It’s important, and we’ll gain a little credibility with him if we have nice things to say after he’s performed what he’s undoubtedly been working very hard on,” Charles chastised. Erik rolled his eyes. He was not much of one for live music events. It wasn’t that he didn’t like music at all, but to Erik it was an intensely private activity, and he preferred to listen to and play music alone. 

They took their seats in a cavernous sanctuary with pews lining the area just in front of the stage. The struts holding up a chandelier in the center of the room were gilded lightly with gold, and the vaulted ceilings gave the room a feeling of openness that Erik liked despite himself. A stout man in a jacket with long coattails entered onto the stage, and took an exaggerated bow to rich applause from the audience. He sat at the piano and began playing a dramatic introduction to what Erik quickly recognized as Mozart’s requiem. 

The music reached a swelling point and the bass singers marched solemnly onstage, followed quickly by the tenors, altos, and sopranos, whose parts all started in a staggered fashion moving from the lowest to the highest voice parts. Erik found himself settling back into his chair with his hands on his thighs, enjoying the music. He felt something brushing the edge of his hand, and looked down to see that Charles had moved his hand so that their little fingers were ever so slightly entwined. The smaller man flashed a sideways grin at Erik, and mimicked his relaxed posture.

The Requiem reached a solo section, and four of the choristers emerged from the group to stand in front of the rest. They clustered themselves around a central microphone, and the piece began. Erik sat forward in his seat somewhat as the first soloist started the piece-the Tuba Mirum movement had a particularly sonorous bass line that Erik had always enjoyed. The bass singer accomplished it well, his lips puckered forwards and the music resonating deeply in his chest as he sang. He looked like a reasonably agreeable person as well-dark brown hair that fell nearly to his shoulders and clad in a sharp navy blue suit. 

The tenor started next, and Erik was surprised to hear the rich tenor line emanating from a tall, full-figured young woman in a navy blue dress. He and Charles exchanged a brief look to indicate their surprise, but that surprise was completely surpassed when the soprano line was handled with finesse by a short, stout redhead whose hair was constantly falling in his eyes. Erik had to do a double take to make sure he was hearing what he thought he was hearing. Those were definitely some high Gs and As being hit by what was unmistakably a young man. 

“Incredible,” Charles mouthed in Erik’s direction. The blonde nodded. 

The piece continued, and at one point the male soprano hit a particularly sustained note that sent a smattering of applause through the audience. 

The high note then took on a sharper tone and a look of panic crossed the young man’s face. Something sharp and painful reverberated through the room, and the chandelier above them began to quiver. The shaking grew more and more intense, and the chandelier eventually loosened from its position and came crashing to the ground. Charles and Erik were mainly out of the way as the pieces spewed and shattered, but several people closer to the center aisle jumped out of the way and dove on top of one another to avoid being cut by flying glass. 

Several people were cut, and yowled with pain as they tried to staunch the flow from shards lodged in their shoulders and in their sides. Erik stared around the room for a telephone, and saw one attached to the back wall. He ran back to it and hastily dialed 911, informing the operator of the situation and quickly rattling off the address of the church. 

The ginger boy ran off the stage, and Charles immediately rose from his seat and motioned for Erik to follow him. They sprinted towards the front of the room and tailed the boy to the backstage area where it appeared he had gone. He was hastily packing his things from a drawer into a small backpack when Charles and Erik arrived behind him. 

“Going somewhere?” Charles asked, folding his arms and waiting for the young man to turn around. His expression was serious, but tinged with his usual compassion for mutants who weren’t entirely aware of the extent of their powers. 

“Who are you guys?” the ginger boy asked, zipping up the back compartment of his bag and throwing it across his shoulder. His green eyes were bright with fear, and his freckles seemed stood out sharply as his face was so pale. Charles noted a thick Irish drawl in his speech. 

“We’re like you,” Charles said gently, and motioned to Erik, who snapped his fingers and lifted the boy’s metal water bottle out of the side compartment on his backpack. The redhead watched, mesmerized, as Erik lifted the bottle high into the air with a flick of his finger and then tucked it right back in the compartment where it came from. 

“But I didn’t think-” the boy began.

“Yes, I know you didn’t think there was anyone else like you,” Erik cut in impatiently. “We can get to that part later, but right now we need to get out of here unless you want to talk to the police for breaking what is undoubtedly a very valuable piece of decoration, and badly injuring several people.” The boy swallowed and nodded. 

“What’s your name then?” asked Charles, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

“Sean,” he supplied. “Sean Cassidy.” 

“Well, let’s go then, shall we Sean? Is there a back entrance out of this place?” Charles motioned for Sean to take the lead. The boy obliged, and Charles and Erik trailed behind him out a small wooden door that let out in the parking lot. Once Erik realized where they were, he moved out in front of the group and led them over to the car. Sean threw his backpack in the trunk of the car and slid into the backseat. 

Erik took the driver’s seat this time, and Charles strapped himself into the passenger side. Erik maneuvered the car out of the parking lot at a reasonable speed so as not to arouse any suspicion. Once they had gotten on the highway, Sean plucked up the courage to talk. 

“So, um, where are you taking me?” he ventured. It occurred to Erik that perhaps the boy was realizing that he had just gotten into the car with two strangers. 

“Westchester, New York.” Charles answered. “You’re the last stop on a bit of a road trip that Charles and I have been taking to gather several people like you to come and live together at my estate. Sean knitted his brow. 

“What, like in a commune?” he asked. 

Charles chuckled. “No, no, like an academy. Erik and I will teach you all how to hone and develop your skills, as well as provide you with a basic education. It’s a place where mutants like yourself can feel free to be themselves and learn from their fellow mutant brothers and sisters.” Sean was silent for a few moments. 

“That, um, that sounds pretty great, actually. And the cops won’t come about the chandelier?” 

“No, the cops won’t come about the chandelier. You can start afresh at Westchester, though I will expect you to take responsibility for any objects of mine that you damage,” Charles informed him. The boy nodded. A few more moments passed in silence. 

“So, back to Westchester then?” Erik began tapping the screen of the GPS to get it working for the ride back. 

“Back to Westchester,” Charles affirmed. 

Erik found the drive to Westchester to be the most torturous out of all of the legs of the road trip thus far. Sean was relentlessly talkative the entire drive. Charles chatted along with him rather merrily at first, but then he too seemed to grow weary of the boy’s prattle. After the fifth instance of Sean asking Charles to describe the Westchester estate at length, Charles shifted the trajectory of the conversation. 

“Sean, it’s a lovely place, and I certainly hope you will find it so. But you can only really know how you’ll find it when you get there yourself. I’m going to try to sleep now, alright?” Charles looked back at Sean, probably in an effort to make sure the boy knew that Charles meant what he said in a kindly way. Charles was like that. Always wanting the younger people around him to know that their opinions were valued and that they were to always be treated with kindness and respect. Erik liked that about Charles. 

The brunette fell asleep fairly quickly, and Erik turned on public radio to fill the silence a bit and to help him focus on something else than his urge to take Charles’ hand in his own while he was driving. Perhaps Sean wouldn’t be bothered by the revelation of his and Charles’ involvement with one another, but Erik wasn’t taking any chances until he knew for sure. The soft, dulcet tones of the radio announcers seemed to put Sean to sleep as well, and Erik was left with just his own company in the car for several hours. He worked his way through several daytime talk shows on the radio, and eventually found himself sucked into one of the 24 hour news cycle stations. 

“Today in political news, a new incarnation of the Mutant Registration Act has reared its head again in the House of Representatives-” Erik switched the station before the announcer woman could continue any further. That was the last thing he wanted to hear about, further assaults on his very being. Idiot radio announcers. They would never understand the breadth of what they were suggesting.


	9. Westchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is at Westchester now! Charles gets all the mutants together to lay down some rules, and Actual Disney Princess Charles Xavier makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I'm having a great time polishing up this fic for ya'll, please leave a comment and let me know what you think!

The sight of Westchester Mansion rising up slowly out of the hills of upstate New York was something that brought up all sorts of memories in Charles Xavier, few of which were positive. His broken family and their later dispersal due to divorce and death left the place tainted and difficult to enjoy most of the time.But today, the mansion had an air of hope around it, hope that felt dangerously close to happiness. He looked over at his partner. Erik probably had something to do with that. The blonde had a way of pushing Charles to hopefulness, to this crazy idea that their lives were better together than they were apart. Love was funny like that. He stretched a little as the car pulled into the estate. Erik turned it off and looked at Charles. 

“Sean seems to have finally fallen asleep. Right as we get back. Of course he would.” 

Charles looked back at the sleeping ginger and smiled. “Poor kid,” he sympathised. “Must be so exhausting to shatter a chandelier and injure several people because your high notes are so good.” Erik burst out laughing. Charles immediately thrust a hand over Erik’s mouth to shut him up and motioned that they get out of the car. 

“You’ll wake him!” Charles scolded, but he was chuckling as well. Erik eventually got composed himself and took Charles’ hand. 

“Fancy a walk?” He motioned to the dirt path that led through the fields that surrounded the mansion and into the small patch of forest behind it. Charles batted his eyelashes. 

“Thought you’d never ask, love,” he lowered his voice, mock-demure. Erik rolled his eyes and led Charles down the road. They walked in silence for several minutes, enjoying the crisp New York air and the green foliage that was absolutely over-abundant in this part of the state. 

“You think we can pull this off?” Erik ventured, his voice uncharacteristically small. Charles squeezed his partner’s hand. 

“You and I can pull off anything,” he said airily. Erik didn’t look convinced. The brunette ran a thumb over the pad between Erik’s thumb and forefinger. “We can, though. We make a good team, you and I. We’ll teach them everything we know, but best of all, we’ll teach them how to live in harmony with one another. We’ll teach them how to be proud of who they are and how to use their mutations for the betterment of the world around them. We can finally make a little corner of the world where mutants can be unapologetically who they are.” He stopped them and took Erik’s other hand so that they were facing each other. “You and I did that, Erik.” Charles’ earnest blue eyes stared into Erik’s stormy grey ones. 

“We did,” Erik agreed, but a bit cautiously. Charles gripped Erik’s hands more firmly and placed them both over his heart. 

“I wouldn’t do this with anyone except you, you know,” Charles said softly. “You are my sun, and soon these other mutants will know your light.” 

Erik smiled and kissed both of Charles’ hands. 

“You’re a cheesy little shit,” he remarked, and leaned in to press a kiss to Charles’ lips. Charles smiled into it. 

“Yeah, but you love me for it,” he ran a hand through Erik’s hair. Erik pulled back but paused with their foreheads touching for a moment. 

“I do love you for it,” he agreed. They stayed there for a moment, enjoying the atmosphere of Westchester in the spring. The wind was gentle and whispered between the two of them, rustling the leaves around them softly. A bluejay sang in the tree just above their heads and fluttered down onto the path. Charles broke their embrace and turned to the bluejay. 

“Please don’t tell me you can talk to animals,” Erik folded his arms. Charles smirked. 

“No, I can’t talk to them. But I can get an idea of what’s going on in their heads, and it’s rather fun.”

“‘Rather fun’? Charles, you’re turning into some caricature of Snow White.” 

“I am not! I’m expanding the use of my power and seeing how far it can go! Now shut up, I’m trying to listen.” Charles pressed his pointer and middle finger to his forehead. He reached out to the bird, who was staring at him with no small measure of suspicion. Charles tried to communicate mentally in the simplest way possible-through the projection of emotions. He pressed forward into the bird’s headspace with _safety, safety, safety_ in mind and tried to gauge a response. 

The bird’s head was a jumble of swirling emotion and color, the most distinguishable one being confusion. Confusion. Poor fellow, why was he feeling confused? Charles pressed deeper, and the swirl of thought inside the bird’s head took on the vague outline of a nest. Of course. The brunette removed his hand from his head and held it out to the bird, trying to communicate to the poor animal that he was going to help. To his great surprise, the bird hopped onto his fingers and perched primly. He noticed that the bird’s right leg was bent a bit strangely. Poor thing. Charles stood up slowly and motioned for Erik to follow him off the path and into the little patch of woods. 

“What is happening-Charles, where are you going?” Erik sighed, agitated, and followed after the brunette. Charles pressed hard into the bird’s mind and followed its instinctive sense of direction. After several minutes of walking, they found the bird’s nest. Charles deposited the bluejay back into its nest and turned to Erik, who had one eyebrow raised. 

“Seriously Charles?”   
“Yes, seriously. He just wanted to go home!” 

“Right, and next he’ll want to come and clean the entire mansion for us with his little birdie friends.” Erik’s tone was halfway between amazement and teasing. Charles performed an elaborate curtsey and took Erik’s hand to lead them back onto the path. 

“You tease, but one day I’ll figure out how to get inside animal’s heads and maybe they will actually clean the house for us.” Charles informed the blonde.

“Whatever you say.” They reached the path once more. Charles sighed contentedly and looked around. 

“What do you think, should we head back to the mansion?” The brunette stared around for Erik, and gasped slightly when the blonde snuck up behind him and pulled him into his arms. 

“There are much more enjoyable things I could think of then going back to that mansion where there’s so many people around,” Erik growled into Charles’ ear. The smaller man’s heartbeat picked up several notches. 

“That sounds wonderfully appealing,” he said truthfully. Erik kissed the nape of Charles’ neck. Charles felt the world swim a bit in front of him. “Very appealing,” he said again, his breath catching. Erik spun Charles to face him and trailed kisses up Charles’ neck and across his jaw. Charles swallowed hard. “We do have to go back to the students, remember?” Charles allowed his mouth to be captured by Erik for a brief moment that turned into several moments that turned into Charles being shoved up against a nearby tree. The smaller man broke the embrace in a surge of strength. 

“You are irresistible, as usual, Erik, but we have to lay down some rules at the mansion or else it will be torn apart by nightfall.” Charles cupped Erik’s face in his hands. They stayed like that for a moment, and Charles found something else constricting his throat that had nothing to do with lust. “But I adore you. I hope you know this.” 

The rare softness in Erik’s eyes as he stared back into Charles’ suggested that he did.   
_________________  
Charles was stunned to actually hear thumping bass music being played as he arrived back to the mansion with Erik. He broke their arm-in-arm embrace and plowed right into the main hallway to the source of the music. A beat-up boombox. No one was even near it, several of the teenagers appeared to be outside. Seriously? He shut it off right away and took it to the kitchen where he had Erik stow it up on a high shelf. God, this was something out of a bad high school coming-of-age story. 

“Could you stay here to wrangle people into the kitchen?” Charles turned to Erik. “I’m going to go gather them all.” He turned to leave the room, but Erik stopped him. 

“Just use your power,” he suggested. “Broadcast into all of their minds and tell them to get themselves down here.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Charles said dubiously. “They’ve got to trust me that I won’t use my power on them without their explicit permission.” Erik rolled his eyes. 

“You and your standards,” he scoffed. “Honestly, Charles, you can be so inconsistent. Just call them down here, and then later you can promise them that you won’t use your power on them without their permission and whatever other flowery nonsense you want to say.” 

Charles smacked Erik’s shoulder, and the taller man flinched in mock woundedness. 

“Fair enough,” Charles conceded, and placed the customary two fingers to his temple. Several minutes later, the kitchen was full. Darwin stood near the refrigerator, Hank and Raven by the sink next to Charles and Erik, Alex near the door, Sean by the food cabinet, and Angel perched on the kitchen island next to Sean. Charles watched the pair of them for a moment before he began talking. 

Angel had crossed her legs and the hem of her skirt fell slightly upwards on her thigh. Sean’s eyes kept flickering over from Charles and Erik (where he knew they should be) to Angel’s muscled, bronzed thigh (where he wanted them to be). He kept his hands glued in his pockets, and Charles had trouble stifling a laugh. Angel gave off a vibe that was part “come hither” and part “I will kill you”, and Sean was utterly baffled by it. Charles clapped his hands. 

“Welcome, friends, to the Westchester estate!” he exclaimed, spreading his hands. The mutants looked hesitantly excited to be there. He grinned widely, hoping the expression seemed welcoming. All he got back in response were a few widened eyes and a raised eyebrow from Angel. He continued. 

“I am very pleased to have you all here in my home. Before we talk about room arrangements and such, I’m going to have to lay down a few ground rules for life here at Westchester.” Charles paused to draw breath, and Alex cut in. 

“God, I thought this was supposed to be like a no-holds-barred mutant love fest,” he groused, folding his arms and leaning up against the wall. Charles had to remind himself that forcing the boy’s obedience wouldn’t get him anywhere, so he settled with the best parental Look he could manage. Erik spoke up here. 

“Well, as I recall, your idea of a no-holds-barred love fest tends to involve leveled buildings and the police. I would prefer to keep the estate intact, and I’m sure you would prefer to have somewhere to sleep that isn’t a solitary jail cell,” Erik spat. Alex looked taken aback, and he stood up straight immediately and paid strict attention to Charles, who continued speaking. 

“We will enforce an 11 pm curfew on weeknights, and 2 am on weekdays with the exception of any special events that may be going on. Otherwise, we can’t afford to have you all out later than that without attracting the attention of those who might not be so keen on the idea of mutants gathering all together in one place. I want this to be a safe haven, and you have to make it that way. Is that clear?” He looked around at the gathered students. They nodded. 

“Good,” Charles said decisively. “Rooms are the space of the owner. If they want you out, stay out. If they want you in, make sure you get verbal permission. Believe me, I’ll know if you haven’t got it.” Here he tapped his temple. “Finally, clean up the kitchen after yourself. No one likes a slob. Any questions?” He looked around the room. No one moved. 

“Basically, don’t be assholes to each other. Society doesn’t like us much, so we may as well try to like each other,” Erik offered. His tone was less biting than before. Charles nodded. 

“Excellent, well, go ahead and make your way up to the rooms. I’m not going to try to make a system, just claim them, and whoever gets to a room first gets to claim it.” He waved his hands to send the mutants off, and they immediately made for the stairs. “Oi, and no using powers to get the room that you want!” he yelled after their retreating backs. 

The kitchen was empty once more. Charles turned to Erik. 

“I think we made a decent impression, don’t you?” he asked, but even as he spoke the words he knew he didn’t sound very confident. Erik put a hand on Charles’ shoulder. 

“It went well,” he assured the brunette. “We can handle this.”


	10. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mutants begin their training at Westchester. Erik spends a bit of quality time with Darwin and Alex, Charles does a private training session with Angel and Sean, and Hank and Raven sit back and survey how things came to be the way they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 is here! Stirrings of Plot Events are coming....sexual tensions are starting to form....and our ensemble is slowly settling into their new lives at Westchester. Thanks for reading! As always, if you like what you read, please leave a comment and come talk to me!
> 
> Come find me on tumblr if you're the tumbling type. :)
> 
> And go read my fabulous beta's fic, she's an amazing writer.

Charles stayed up all night that night developing a schedule for the following day. Erik humored him at first by staying awake and reading _The Once and Future King_ while Charles agonized over which students to put in what classes. But after Charles’ scheduling carried on past 2 in the morning, Erik began to complain. 

“I’m not going to be able to teach whatever blasted thing it is you want me to teach if you carry on like this, _love_.” 

“But it’s important, are Darwin and Alex going to kill each other if they’re in the same class?” 

“Charles, honest to god, it won’t matter. They’ll get by either way. Now can we please get some sleep?” Erik put down his book and looked at Charles, whose blue eyes were bleary and slightly manic with exhaustion. Charles hesitated. 

“There’s still-I need to-” 

“Alright. Just take it downstairs, would you?” Erik was resigned. He put his book on the bedside table, switched off the bedside light, and turned over so his back was facing Charles. The bedraggled brunette watched his partner’s chest rise and fall for a few moments before gathering his things and padding downstairs as quietly as he could. He spent the remaining nighttime hours planning what would happen the following day. 

He fell asleep at the kitchen table around 5:30 and was rudely awoken at 6 by a chipper Hank coming downstairs to put on a pot of coffee. 

“Charles!” Hank exclaimed, startled. “Have you been up all night?” Charles jerked back upwards to a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes and nodded. Hank folded his arms, his expression scolding. 

“It was all for good reason, Hank,” Charles defended himself. “I’ve got a teaching schedule for you and Raven today.” Hank poured himself a mug of coffee and leaned up against the counter, bidding Charles to continue. The groggy brunette smoothed out the piece of paper he had just finished concerning Hank and Raven’s schedule for the day. 

“Raven is going to lead a basic evolution class beginning with the life of Charles Darwin. She adores the man, so it shouldn’t be much of a problem.” Charles looked up from the paper, momentarily bewildered. “Where is Raven…” he mused, rubbing his eyes again. 

“She’s upstairs, still asleep,” Hank supplied. “I’ll let her know what’s going on.” Charles nodded.

“Right, then you will be doing an introductory genetics class with those same students after they’ve had a break. Just start with the easy stuff, don’t want to spook them too much.” Charles yawned hugely and made to continue, but Hank cut him off. 

“Raven and I will kick that off at around nine with the students once they are all awake,” he said, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Then you and Erik can take your students to do things as you need them. Alright?” Charles nodded and patted Hank’s arm clumsily. 

“Right, yes. In the meantime I’m going to-to go have a little lie-down,” he mumbled, and rose from his chair to stumble back upstairs. Erik was awake by the time Charles arrived back to bed, and smirked at his partner’s untidy appearance. 

“How was the all-nighter, then?” he asked, pulling on a pair of socks. 

“I’m not in college anymore, that’s for sure,” Charles flopped down onto the bed and reached for the covers. Erik rose from his seated position on the bed and tucked Charles in. The smaller man curled his body around a pillow and shut his eyes. 

“Take Alex and Darwin on your run with you, will you,” Charles waved a hand at Erik. Erik rolled his eyes. 

“Fine, fine.” He bent to kiss Charles’ temple, and the brunette hummed contentedly and fell fast asleep.  
_____________  
Erik was surprised to find Darwin so agreeable to being woken up at 6:30 for a run. He changed quickly and walked with Erik to wake up Alex, who was considerably less of a morning person. 

“Seriously?” the blonde protested, pulling a pillow over his face. “It’s our first day here, don’t I get to sleep in a bit?” Erik plucked the pillow from Alex’s grasp and threw it behind him. 

“Get up,” he ordered. Erik folded his arms and felt his face grow stony as he watched Alex begrudgingly get out of bed and get dressed. He alternately identified with and was supremely irritated with the boy. But he could survive a run with him. Alex tugged a coat over his shoulders on top of his running outfit and the three of them made their way out the front door of the mansion. 

Erik set a reasonably easy pace to begin with. Darwin and Alex ran on either side of him, both with good form and both with their eyes locked straight ahead. Erik stole sideways glances at both of them, not sure if he should say anything. Charles was really much better at dealing with young people. Erik never knew what to say to teenagers. He did his best not to think about his own time as a teenager; being tortured by Dr. Schmidt in an effort to bring out his powers was something he tried to lock away in the deepest recesses of his mind. 

As a result of his own turbulent youth, Erik had no idea what the typical path through adolescence and early maturity looked like. So he just ran, three abreast with Darwin and Alex, winding their way around the Westchester property and down through the fields, and weaving in and out of the aspen groves. They kept up a good pace for about half an hour, and then Darwin abruptly dropped off and doubled over, trying to catch his breath. Erik turned around and motioned for Alex to do the same. He stood beside the dark-haired mutant and put an uncertain hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

“You-erm-you alright there, Darwin?” Erik patted the boy’s shoulder a few times and tried to think about what Charles would do. Darwin was breathing heavily and staring at the ground in a resolute manner. Alex was standing in front of the boy and smirking. 

“Come on dude, where’s your perkiness now? It’s only been-” he checked his watch-”half an hour.” 

Darwin looked up at Alex. Erik couldn’t see more than the side of his face, but his expression was stony. Mercifully, the ebony-skinned boy didn’t say anything, and instead tried to slow his breathing. It worked eventually, and he stood up, ready to continue. 

“Just a cramp,” Darwin tried to explain. “I haven’t run in awhile, so I’ll probably get cramps until I’m used to it again.” He looked around at the two of them, hoping to find understanding expressions. Erik did the best he could and nodded. 

“It’s fine,” he reassured the boy. “Happens to the best of us.” Alex muttered something that sounded a lot like “adapt to survive.” Darwin folded his arms. 

“If you have something to say, Alex, you can say it to my face.” He shot the blonde a challenging glare. Alex mirrored Darwin’s posture. Another smirk was playing at the corner of his lips. 

“Just thought your power was ‘adapt to survive’,” he said again, his voice overly innocent. Darwin frowned. 

“Dunno who told you that, but for your information, it’s adaptation to threats on my life. Not exercise.” His voice remained surprisingly even, though there was a bite to it. Erik stood in between the boys, hoping to god they didn’t break out in a fight. Alex unfolded his arms and adjusted his jacket. 

“Whatever, dude. Let’s finish this off.” The blonde looked at Erik and cocked his head further down the path. Erik adjusted his own jacket and led them down the path and had it wind back up to Westchester. This time he led the boys, hoping if they had any further beefs with one another that they would resolve it in a staring contest or something. Or anything, really.  
_______  
Charles awoke at around 1 pm. He cleaned up and headed downstairs to find Hank in the midst of a detailed explanation to several of the mutants of how to make the perfect omelette. The brunette grinned at the tableau of Hank standing over a fry pan with four mutants standing around him and watching intently. If Hank turned out to be the best cook in the house, Charles might never have to go near kitchen supplies ever again. That was fine by him.He had a few decent dishes in his repertoire, but hated the whole process of cooking. He waited for Hank to finish his explanation, and then pulled Angel and Sean away from the group. 

“I’ll be working with the two of you today,” Charles informed them. Sean shot a sideways glance at Angel. He looked a bit terrified. Charles rubbed his hands together. “Right, let’s go out into the back garden then, shall we?” He exited the kitchen and made for the back door out of the main hallway, motioning for Angel and Sean to follow. 

The back garden was the smallest of Westchester’s gardens. It was primarily roses, but there were a few lavender plants along the borders of the garden. Charles was always careful to make sure they were well-maintained via hired help. 

Angel and Sean filed out behind him and stood in front of him. Angel looked suspicious and stood back on one foot, the other jutted forward and her arms akimbo. Sean stood with his hands stuffed in his jean pockets and had begun examining a rose bush very intently. Charles grinned at the pair of them. 

“You both have rather unique abilities as mutants go,” he told them. This got their attention. Sean looked a bit pleased with himself, while Angel’s skepticism seemed to increase. 

“What’s that supposed to mean,” she demanded, fixing Charles with a steely glare. “We’re all genetic freaks of nature, and you choose to single out Sean and I because we’re extra freaky?” 

“No, no,” Charles protested. “Look, the best way for me to explain this is for you two to show each other what you’ve got.” 

Angel and Sean exchanged a look. 

Charles backpedaled. “I meant your powers,” he clarified. “I want you to show each other what you can do with your powers.” Angel looked around. 

“Do you really want to ruin this garden?” she asked. “We should probably go do this in the woods.” Charles looked at his beautiful roses and it occurred to him that she was right. 

“Sure, then, let’s go,” he stuttered a bit, leading the two of them near up the path a bit towards the trees. He hated to subject the trees to a demonstration of the kids’ powers, but they were a bit more numerous than his rose bushes. Besides, his gardener would kill him if there weren’t any roses left the next time he came to maintain the house. They arrived in a wooded area. Charles turned to Angel first. 

“Right, you first then, darling,” he waved his hands at her. 

“I’m not your darling,” she informed him as her wings started to unfold from her back. 

She fluttered them experimentally and then rose gracefully from the ground, darted amongst several of the trees, and then hovered in front of Charles and Sean. Charles couldn’t help smiling at her skill with flying. She moved with an easy grace, but there was an edge to her motions that suggested a strength beyond what her flight revealed. He raised his eyebrows at her. 

“What,” she said defensively. 

“Are you sure that’s everything? Don’t hold back now,” Charles stretched his hands out and bent his fingers in a ‘bring-it-on’ motion. 

“You really want me to do the other thing?” Angel asked dubiously. Charles supposed he should have let her know that he had no trouble identifying the abilities of other mutants whether they showed him their powers or not. But that was neither here nor there. Charles wanted Angel to feel like she was incredible, because she was. So he nodded, eyes wide and expectant. Angel flipped her hair behind her shoulders and pitched backwards slightly as if she were winding up. Her head then shot forwards, and a small orange ball of fire came flying out of her mouth. It landed in a bush behind Charles and set it partially aflame. Charles turned around to look at it, giddy, and applauded. 

“Oh, well done!” Charles crowed. “That is absolutely brilliant!” He turned to Sean. “Wasn’t that brilliant?” The redhead boy’s eyes flickered from Charles to the small fire in the bush, and back to Charles again. 

“It was, yeah, it was….it was right stunnin’,” he said, his eyes darting over to Angel this time. She had fluttered back down to earth and was looking smug. Sean looked at the fire in the bush again. “Uh, Charles?” he ventured, gesturing to the bush. The mad professor did a double take at the fire and immediately went over to stamp it out. 

“Alright, Sean, it’s your turn now,” Charles spread his hands wide, indicating that the Irish boy should demonstrate his ability now. The ginger blanched, and looked a bit like he was about to vomit. 

“Uh, right, you lot probably shouldn’t stand next to me,” Sean waved his hands a bit. “And you should definitely cover your ears,” he added, his drawl becoming a bit more pronounced. Charles and Angel obliged, and stuck their fingers in their ears. Sean positioned himself with his back facing Charles and Angel. And then Charles was briefly mesmerized as the ginger boy let loose an ear-splitting scream that cleaved the sapling tree in front of him completely in two. The halves fell to the ground, and Charles couldn’t help himself from bursting into another round of applause. 

“That’s amazing! You’ve done just splendidly, Sean.” Charles approached the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. “You are hitting some truly astonishing frequencies just by using your voice,” Charles continued. “But this-” he put a hand on his own throat- “is just like any other muscle in the body. Same goes for you, Angel, it can be controlled.” He steered Sean over to Angel so that the three of them were all facing each other. 

“I want to train you all to control your powers and to hone them into something truly amazing,” Charles told them. His voice had gone quite serious. 

“Why,” Angel responded, “so you can use us as your little mutant soldiers when something happens and they finally decide to lock us all away under the Registration Act?” Charles fixed her with a grave gaze. 

“Is that what you think is going to happen?” he asked her. She maintained eye contact. 

“I’m not stupid,” she snapped. “I’ve been watching the news. New York’s senate has been trying to push a local registration act through for several months now, and it’s only a matter of time before Congress tries to push one through.” She looked at both of them. Charles didn’t say anything. 

“They’re terrified of us,” Angel went on. “They want us to fit into their world like good little sheep, but if they can’t make us do that then they’ll stamp us all and send us away. History repeating itself at last.” Charles pressed his lips together. 

“I have shared the same worry over and over again, Angel.” He tried to convey as much understanding as he could as he spoke. “There’s no clear-cut answer to trying to get the rest of the world to understand what it’s like to be a mutant. But there is also no reason to take up arms against non-mutants for something that they don’t understand. I will never ask you to commit violent acts.” 

Angel frowned and her jaw was set. Charles wanted to put a hand on her shoulder to try to let her know how seriously he took this, but he remembered from their earlier interactions during the road trip that she valued her personal space highly. He could feel Sean’s eyes darting between the two of them. 

“Well,” Charles broke the silence. “We will continue honing your abilities over your time here. But it is for the sake of you being able to control your power, and not allowing your power to control you.” He turned and made for the path. Angel and Sean followed behind him.  
_______  
Back at the mansion, Raven poured two glasses of white wine. She brought them both into the living room where Hank was sitting with his back to the fireplace, bent over a scientific journal and scribbling furiously. He looked up as she walked into the room, and his eyes lit up. 

“Time for a break?” Raven offered him one of the glasses, and snatched the journal and the pen from his lap as he accepted it. Hank made a little noise of protest, but she sat next to him and set the journal down at her side anyway. She sipped her wine, and Hank followed suit. 

“These kids are something else,” Hank remarked. He slipped his arm around Raven’s waist, and she leaned into the embrace. She put her head on his shoulder. Hank always smelled a bit like antiseptic and cedar, combinations of his favorite cologne and his inability to spend his free time anywhere but a lab. She chuckled. That was probably going to change now. 

“They sure are,” Raven agreed. “They blew through my evolution class today like it was nothing. I almost couldn’t answer some of their questions.” 

“Almost,” Hank repeated. Raven lifted her head a little to look up at him.

“Yeah, almost,” she smirked. “They’re smart, but not as smart as I am.” Hank leaned down and kissed her forehead. 

“Look at us. Teachers.” Hank shook his head and took another sip of his wine. Raven made a noise of disbelief in the back of her throat. She sat up. 

“Is this too much?” She searched Hank’s hazel eyes for some sign that he was cracking. Some sign that this was all too much, that he wasn’t ready to take on this type of responsibility. She found none. The corner of her partner’s mouth twitched upwards. 

“It’s more than a little overwhelming,” Hank acknowledged. “I mean we’ve been dating for six months, and I didn’t exactly expect to be thrown into teaching other mutants genetics as an anniversary present.” 

Raven took a longer draught of her wine. 

“But it’s exhilarating,” Hank reassured her. “It’s only the first day, and I’m already mapping out entire lesson plans in my head for the next year. I didn’t think I would like being a teacher much, but here I am.” He sipped his wine and set it down next to his feet. 

“You’ll tell me, won’t you?” Raven asked, meeting Hank’s eyes again. “If it’s too much?”  
“Yes. Yes, of course I will.” Hank put his other arm around her waist, drew her close, and kissed her. She sank into the embrace and kissed him back, loving how easily they fit together. 

“Urgh, gross, PDA!” They broke the kiss to look for the heckler, and laughed as they saw Alex run from the room. 

“He seems a bit old to be genuinely grossed out by kissing,” Hank remarked at the boy’s retreating back. Raven shrugged. 

“He also seems like the type to crack whatever joke possible to get out of an awkward situation,” she countered. Hank nodded. 

“Fair enough.” Before they could carry on with kissing and other activities, Sean burst into the room, look a bit windswept. 

“Charles is lighting a bonfire outside,” he informed them. “He wants you two to come out, says the bonfire and roasting marshmallows and-” he waved his hands in a circular motion, “are going to facilitate group bonding?” Sean looked confused and switched his gaze from Hank to Raven and back to Hank. Raven stuck a hand up towards Sean, bidding him to help her get up. He took her hand and she leapt to her feet. 

“Thanks Sean, tell Charles we’ll be out in a moment?” She smiled brilliantly at him, and he nodded and went back outside. Hank laughed. 

“The poor kid looks completely dazed,” he observed. Raven turned around to face him and flipped her hair coquettishly. 

“No one is immune to my charms, Hank. You know this.” She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he slid his around her waist. “We’ll have to carry this on later,” she added. “I think Charles wants us to go outside and be adults or something.” 

Hank rolled his eyes. “ _Adults_. Absurd.” He leaned down to kiss her once more, and they made their way outside, arm in arm.


	11. Bonfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles tries to initiate some mutant bonding at a bonfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love writing mutant fluff and domesticity. But alas, the Plot must continue, and so it will next chapter. As always, please leave a comment if you're enjoying yourself, it's a huge encouragement to me to hear from you all. <3

Charles gathered everyone into a circle around the bonfire he and Erik had carefully constructed in the yard on the western side of the property. The students sat around the warm orange blaze, chattering easily to one another about the events of the day. Charles surveyed their alignments with Erik at his side. 

Angel and Sean were sitting next to each other, though there was a careful distance of a few inches between their legs. Probably put there by Sean. Charles smirked. Angel radiated charisma, despite her often intimidating air. Could be a heady combination. Her mood seemed to have softened from earlier in the day, and she was relaxed with her legs stacked in front of her and resting on her hands behind her. Sean was sitting with his legs crossed and his hands in his lap, back ramrod straight and his eyes moving from the dancing flames to Angel. Charles noticed that her hair caught the light in what he imagined Sean would find an appealing way, and motioned to Erik to take notice of the pair.

“Look at them,” he muttered.

“What,” 

“He’s terrified of her.”

“Well, she’s a bit terrifying.” 

“But I mean _really look_ at them.” Charles persisted. Erik watched them for a few moments, and Charles watched the realization dawn on his face. He shifted slightly closer to his partner so he could brush his hand across Erik’s. 

“She is quite magnetic,” Erik acknowledged.

“And he’s caught up in it,” The words sounded almost wistful. Erik looked over at him, amused.

“Have you decided to play Cupid now?” 

“No, I’ll let things take their course.” 

“Though I’m sure you wouldn’t mind hurrying it along.” 

“No, no. They’ll find each other. We did.” Charles turned his gaze on Erik, whose grey eyes had grown dark in the firelight. The chatter of the students to one another appeared to be enough to cover their own conversation. The pair held one another’s gaze for several moments. 

“How did that happen?” Erik surreptitiously took Charles’s hand and guided it behind both of their backs so as to try to conceal it from the students. 

“Hm?” Charles was distracted by the feel of Erik’s sinewy palms covering his own. 

“How did I manage to find you.” 

“Some things are just meant to be, I suppose.” Charles ran his thumb over the ridges of Erik’s. 

“But you and I. We-”

“We’re a team. In everything. Remember?” Charles looked up at Erik again and was surprised to find his face full of uncharacteristic emotion. Erik was a stoic person who tended to play his feelings fairly close to the chest. That didn’t mean they were nonexistent. Charles had learned to look for the depression in his eyebrow, the twitch at the corner of his lips, and the heaviness in his eyes when something was on his mind. 

“But you’re so good and I am so-” Erik was muttering low and quick, not wanting the other students to hear. Charles sidled a little closer to catch what his partner was saying. 

“You’re so what?” Charles squeezed Erik’s hand. 

“You know.” 

“I really don’t.” Charles felt his own voice grow thick. “It’s like I’ve told you, Erik, there’s so much more to you than you know. There’s a stalwart goodness in you, I’ve seen it.” He felt Erik’s eyes burning into him, their heat making him wish there weren’t students sitting all around them. In an effort to avoid doing something in front of everyone that he might regret, Charles turned his attention to the other students. 

Alex and Darwin were sitting next to each other, and seemed to be getting along quite amiably. 

“Didn’t you say those two were fighting earlier?” Charles asked Erik, gesturing towards the pair.

“Yeah, Alex was being a right ass to Darwin while we were on a run.” Erik watched them for a moment. Something minute had shifted in Alex’s demeanor towards Darwin, and Darwin seemed to be accepting the shift. Alex’s shoulders were hunched over somewhat, and he was deep in conversation with his ebony-skinned classmate, gesticulating while Darwin followed his motions carefully. 

“He’s sitting around him the way I used to sit around you,” Charles remarked. Erik nodded.  
“God, you could be obvious sometimes.” 

“I was smooth!” Charles protested. “On---on occasion I was smooth!” 

“You really, really weren’t,” Erik looked over at Charles, his eyes full of affection. “But I loved you for it.”

“Why are all these students around,” Charles muttered so only Erik could hear. 

“You wanted them to bond. Or something.” Erik’s voice had deepened, and the telepath licked his lips in spite of himself. He looked around for his adoptive sister, who had similar eyes on Hank that he had on Erik. 

“Raven,” hissed Charles. “Raven.” Raven looked at him. He had clearly interrupted her about to make a move on her partner. She rolled her eyes. 

“Timing, Charles. Timing!” 

“I know. This is good a good time to-” and here Charles made a shooing motion, hoping Raven would get the picture. Her eyes widened somewhat as she understood. 

“Right, right.” Raven rose from her position around the fire and held out a hand for Hank to help him up. “Bedtime, everyone,” she announced. Charles looked around at the students for extra authoritativeness. 

“Got to get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow,” he told them all importantly.The students didn’t seem to mind, and ambled inside in the pairs they had been in the whole night so far. It might have been the flicker of the flame, but Charles could have sworn he saw Angel take Sean’s hand as they went inside together. Eventually, Charles and Erik were alone together by the bonfire. 

“I must eventually thank Raven for her impeccable wingwoman skills,” Erik said, sliding a hand around Charles’s waist now that they were alone. 

“I’m not sure her motives were entirely altruistic,” Charles replied, thinking of her hand around Hank’s waist steadily drifting south. 

“Either way.” 

“You and me now.” Charles looked up at his partner and snuggled closer to him. Erik shifted his arm so that it was encompassing Charles’s shoulder. They sat for a few moments, staring into the fire, Charles following the little sparks up into the air and watching them dissipate into the night sky.  
“They’re so young.” Erik’s observation took Charles a moment to process. 

“Who are,” 

“The students. They’re so young. I feel like a-” 

“Like what?”

 

“Like a parent, almost.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Charles lifted his head from Erik’s chest and kissed the base of the taller man’s neck. 

“I’ve never been a parent.” 

“Neither have I.” 

“What makes us think we’re qualified to look out for these kids’ well-being?” There was a slight edge of panic in Erik’s voice that Charles noticed immediately. He sat up straight and Erik’s arm slid off his shoulder. He turned so that he was face to face with Erik.

“What makes us think we’re not?” 

“Well, maybe you are.” Erik looked at the ground. 

“Why me? I’m the invasive one, they’re scared that I’ll dig into their minds without permission!” 

“Please, they’re all terrified that I’ll take out one of the metal struts of the house and stab them with it if they get too unruly.” 

“Well, that I wouldn’t put past you if Alex got too intolerable.” Charles dodged a swat from Erik at this one. 

“Too far!” 

“He can be a little shit.” 

“Not a little shit I would stab!” Erik folded his arms, but he was smiling. The mood had lightened a little bit. Charles laid his hands on Erik’s knees and ran his thumb up and down the muscle. 

“Look at the two of us. A pair of monsters entrusted with the care of delicate youth.”  
“There must be someone out there with a massive cosmic sense of humor.” Erik dipped his head to Charles’s and inhaled the scent of the smaller man’s hair. Fresh, and smelling slightly of almonds. Charles leaned forward into Erik’s touch. 

“We are better together, though. You must know this.” Charles sat up straight again here and lifted a hand to Erik’s face to brush a finger along his jawline. 

“I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. Being better with someone else.” Erik said. 

“We tend to do the impossible, you and I.” Charles’s hand gripped the back of Erik’s head and pulled him close. Their lips met in the quiet evening air and Charles couldn’t help sighing into the embrace. Erik rocked forward onto his knees and straddled Charles’s hips, deepening the kiss with a low noise in the back of his throat. The brunette allowed his hands to drift from Erik’s neck to the small of his back, where he drew his partner as close as he could, ignoring the slight discomfort of Erik’s weight driving his hips into the ground. Besides, Erik’s weight had other effects on Charles, ones he didn’t mind at all. 

Erik shifted in Charles’s lap, creating a little more friction that they were both desperate for. An urgent noise escaped Charles’s throat, and Erik responded by tipping Charles over backwards completely so that Erik could have his way with him in the soft grass. They carried on like this for several more minutes, Charles’s erection growing needier all the time. 

“Hrmph,”

“What?” Erik separated himself from Charles for a moment.

“Could we-em, maybe take this inside?” 

“What, sex by a bonfire is too romantic for you?” Erik rolled off of Charles and helped the smaller man up.

“It’s terribly romantic, but I’m afraid the grass is not the most comfortable place I’ve ever been.” 

“Fair enough.” Erik took Charles’s hand and they made their way inside. 

“Besides, as romantic as this is, it doesn’t have everything I need for what I want to do to you,” Charles spoke in a low voice in Erik’s ear. A small shiver ran down the taller man’s spine in anticipation of what was to come. 

They walked inside together, in a state of suspended contentment with one another’s presence. Charles slipped his hand into Erik’s and brushed his thumb over the taller man’s knuckles as they made their way into their room, making sure the door was shut securely behind them. Erik turned off the lights and lit a candle next to their bed. They didn’t speak, but undressed slowly, unhurriedly, pausing only to exchange quiet kisses. 

Charles loved Erik like this. He loved the smooth plane of Erik’s chest. He loved the soft clump of hair in the middle of it, and the way it curled gently inwards towards Erik’s heart. He loved the heat that bloomed across Erik’s face when he called him beautiful, and he loved the sharp intake of breath that Erik tried to suppress when he took him into his mouth. He loved the increasingly shorter gasps that built up to Erik shouting his name like an oath and then sighing it like a prayer once he had ridden the wave of his climax back onto the shores of coherent thought. 

They fit so beautifully together that Charles had a difficult time remembering the days where he didn’t wake up to Erik by his side. The pair delighted in one another’s bodies for the remainder of the night, falling asleep intertwined right as the darkest period of it began to give way to the dawn. Charles listened to Erik’s steady breathing as he drifted off. They were better together.


	12. Rally II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's another mutant rally in the big city, so Charles and Erik take the students. We meet a major mutant organizer, Corsair, and figure out what the current state of the Registration Act is. PlotPlotPlot!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for reading. Please leave a comment if you're enjoying yourself or if you have feedback; it's a huge encouragement for me to hear from other fic enthusiasts.

Charles wasn’t sure this was a good idea. He told Erik this for the fourth time that night. 

“They’re not _children_ , Charles,” Erik repeated for the fourth time that night. “They can handle this. In fact, they need to know what’s going on if they have any hope of being part of decision-making in the mutant community in their later lives.” 

Charles stared around at their little gaggle and did a head count again. Everyone was still there. They were at a mutant rally in a warehouse in New York City; Erik had heard it was happening and immediately insisted that they take the students. Charles had agreed at first, it was important to him that they met other mutants and felt like they were part of a larger community. But when he read that the topic of the night would be the Brotherhood faction and whether they were doing good for the mutant community at large, he lost confidence in the idea. 

A low rumble began to work its way through the crowd. Charles sat up a little straighter in his chair, trying to see what the fuss was about. No one was on the stage yet, and Charles hadn’t seen who was going to be speaking that night. And yet the rumble persisted, and it eventually gave way to low-grade chanting. The chanting started at the front of the room and slowly made its way back to where his group was sitting. 

“Cor-sair. Cor-SAIR. Cor-sair. Cor-SAIR.” The chant rose in volume until it was ringing throughout the warehouse. It began to fade into applause as a rather short woman took the stage. Charles looked at her sideways. An earth manipulator. Shit, certainly not someone he would like to get on the wrong side of. She adjusted the microphone in the center of the stage so it was the appropriate height for her and spread her muscled arms wide. 

“My fellow mutant brothers and sisters and variations thereupon!” she boomed. The crowd erupted into cheers again. She lifted her hands in a “stop” motion, and they all immediately fell silent. “I am Corsair, and I’ll be kicking off our discussion tonight.” She pointed to a microphone that was at the head of the center aisle that cut the crowd in two. 

“As always, the center microphone is for questions. Do us all a favor and don’t be assholes to your fellow mutants. Let everyone have their turn. You all have things you want to say, and you can all stand to learn from each other. So what’s the rule, yell it back to me,” she put her hands to her ears, waiting for a response. 

“Don’t be assholes!” The crowd chanted in response. Corsair looked pleased. She tied her bushy black hair back from her face and cleared her throat. 

“Right, so here’s what’s been happening, for those of you that are living under a rock.” A titter ran through the crowd. Charles was a bit stunned at the control she exerted over the crowd, though he supposed it was hardly the first time he had been surprised. Corsair spoke animatedly and made liberal use of hand gestures.   
“We’ve got the Brotherhood group. All we know about these guys is that they’re hell-bent on mutant supremacy. They’ve been kidnapping members of the New York state legislature who had anything to do with previous iterations of the Mutant Registration Act and doing god knows what with them. It seems to me that they’re trying to stave off a future attempt of the state congress to pass a local Registration Act. First person at the mic, what is your comment?” Corsair gestured towards the steadily growing queue down the center aisle. 

“Yeah, maybe they’re a bit extreme in the way they’re going about it, but something has to be done about the Registration Act.” A tall, willowy boy with a huge mass of olive-colored hair standing straight up from his head spoke somewhat tentatively. Corsair had her eyes fixed on him, and waved her hand for him to continue. He obliged. 

“This isn’t going to lead to anything good.” He ran a hand through his hair, but it did nothing to flatten it. “They’ll make us think that it’s totally harmless to be registered with the government; that there’s no reason to think they want anything from us other than knowing who we are so they can catch the violent mutants when they arise. But then it’ll pile up-employers will start to have access to information about who’s a registered mutant and who’s not, and we all know they’ll preferentially choose non-mutants. And what if it becomes a bigger point of discrimination and we’re excluded from insurance plans and god forbid, even public places like restaurants and stores? I don’t know about you all, but we’ve only just overthrown Jim Crow and I am NOT going back to being excluded for something I can’t control!” 

The boy’s voice had risen to a roar and he was greeted by enthusiastic cheers from about half of the audience. He turned to go back and sit where he came from, and Charles caught a snatch of what looked like a slightly more self-assured expression. Good. The applause for the olive-haired boy had barely had a chance to die down before the next person at the microphone took control, this time a girl with a long, brown braid down her back. 

“Next,” Corsair waved at her. 

“This is precisely the type of reactionary bullshit that we have to stay away from!” The girl was shouting right out of the gate this time, and it took Charles aback a bit. He looked over at Erik, who had his arms folded and his jaw set. Charles thanked whatever supreme being there might be that he was on the edge of the row, and gave Erik’s thigh what he hoped was a quick and comforting squeeze. The taller man twitched a tiny smile, but kept his eyes front and focused on what the girl was saying. 

“We cannot allow ourselves to be stirred up by non-mutant ignorance,” she was saying. “What we have to focus on is further outreach from mutants to humans so they can figure out that we’re not here to harm them. We’re here to live peacefully with them. We’re not dangerous, they’re just afraid of things they don’t fully understand. Violence and fear-mongering will only beget more violence and fear!” The half of the room that hadn’t cheered at the olive-haired boy were cheering now for the braided girl.   
“So you’re saying we should allow ourselves to be the pawns of the non-mutants? We should allow them to walk all over us? We should allow them to subjugate us and put us away like they’ve done to every other goddamn group they didn’t understand?” The shout rose up from somewhere in the crowd to Charles’ left, but he couldn’t see where it was coming from. 

Corsair re-took center stage. “Sit the fuck down or come and queue for mic time like everyone else,” she ordered the speaker. Whoever it was fell silent and she seemed satisfied. “Next.” She motioned for the next speaker at the center aisle microphone. 

Charles folded his arms. To say that this was not how he had planned to introduce his students to the topic of mutant political issues was an understatement. He looked down the line at his students. There was some measure of tension in each of their body positions, and he nudged Erik in the ribs. Tense grey-green eyes met his own. 

“We need to go,” Charles hissed. “This has been quite enough.” To his great surprise, Erik nodded his agreement. He stood and made a great sweeping motion with his arm, and the students caught his drift and filed outside. 

They walked back to the train station in silence. Charles was desperate to figure out what was going on in their heads. He had to fold his arms rather aggressively to prevent himself from reaching out into their minds without permission. They would say something about what they had heard when they felt like they were comfortable, he reminded himself. Abusing his ability at their expense was not the way to gain their trust. But _god,_ , the temptation was strong. 

Charles sat next to Hank on the ride home to try to get to know the man better, while Erik sat with Raven. The others paired off the way they had during the bonfire, and a quiet buzz of conversation filled the train. Charles and Hank quickly became absorbed in a conversation about the state of genetic research, and the mad professor quickly came to the conclusion that he liked Hank very much. 

“Hank, I’ve got to ask-why did you never become a teacher before now? Because you’re positively brilliant at it with the kids, and with me right now.” Charles waved down the food trolley and bought a styrofoam cup of disappointing tea for both him and Hank. The bespectacled scientist bowed his head. 

“Well, you can hardly say I’m a good teacher to you. You’ve already had a stint as a professor and you’re a geneticist as well.” Hank sipped his tea and poorly hid his grimace at its taste. Charles laughed and put a hand on Hank’s shoulder.

“Don’t drink the tea if it’s horrible,” he assured his friend. “And I’m a geneticist, but I don’t have your specialties and I haven’t shared your research focus. You’re a wonderful teacher, and I certainly hope that becomes clear to you as time goes on.” Hank gave Charles a small smile. 

“Well, you’re very kind,” he allowed. 

The train pulled into the station on time and Kurt was waiting in the parking lot with a newly acquired van to accommodate them all on the short ride back up to Westchester. Charles let Erik sit in the passenger seat, and was rewarded with a relieved expression on his partner’s face. The constant interaction with the students was starting to wear on his partner; Charles could tell that much. 

The ride back up to Westchester from the train station was short and silent. Charles stole glances at the students in the back two rows from his position in the front row next to Hank and Raven. Angel was staring directly out the window, not saying anything. Sean was falling asleep next to Angel and kept leaning over in his drowsy state and almost landing on her shoulder, but jerking awake just in time. 

Darwin and Alex were engaged in an animated discussion about Kurt Vonnegut’s latest book release, and the exchange seemed to be quite cordial. Charles was glad of this, things had seemed to be thawing between the pair over the last few days. The brunette professor knew that he wouldn’t be able to avoid all infighting, but he hoped he could at least avoid most of it. 

Kurt pulled the van up to the main entrance of the Westchester mansion. Charles watched Erik pat the man on the shoulder and offer his hushed thanks. Erik opened the passenger side door, exited the car, and then opened the main van door. 

“Right, everyone, off to bed or however it is you want to spend your nights. Group runs will be leaving tomorrow morning at 7 followed by breakfast.” Charles spoke with his voice slightly raised so that the students that were sleeping jerked awake and so that he got everyone’s attention. They all nodded groggily and made their way indoors. 

Charles stood with Erik as the students filed out of the van and back into the mansion. As _their_ students made their way back to the mansion. He was struck by how young they all looked, rubbing their eyes and yawning. 

“God, we’re really responsible for them, aren’t we,” Charles remarked under his breath. Erik rubbed Charles’ back and drew him close now that the students were inside. 

“We are. But we make a good team, you and I.” Erik said. Charles looked up at his partner and a slow smile crossed his face. They did. Thank god for that.


	13. Angel's Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel's POV for a chapter! A new Mutant Registration Act is before the New York State Assembly. Some of the mutants discuss this development, Angel and Sean have a bit of bonding time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing for Angel's POV. She is life goals forever and always. Thanks for reading as always, let me know if you're enjoying yourself! :D

Angel stretched luxuriously in her bed. The accommodations at Westchester weren’t four-star hotel standard, but it beat her bony couch bed any day of the week. She sat up and leaned up against the headboard. All hers. The entire room was really all hers. It was surprisingly nice, having her own space and not having to share it with the other dancers. 

There was a camaraderie to be had in a packed room, she had learned that much. Most of the girls had formed a sisterhood of sorts, as one kind of had to do when being in the profession they were in. Horny men were a dime a dozen. When you had to deal with that all the time, a girl needed sisters. 

She had met hers the first week she started dancing for her club, and they had been instrumental in her transition. They loaned her an extra top when some idiot had spilled his beer all over hers, allowing her to finish her shift on one of her first nights. The old hands in the club were eager to adopt a new little sister, and she was a perfect candidate in her early days. They clued her in as to the best bouncers to make friends with, and made sure she got safely home at the end of the night. 

Angel felt safe with them, mostly. But the longer she spent at the club, the better she got at her job-and the more she began to surpass her adopted sisters. The club owner had taken notice of her talent and her magnetism, and began to feature her more heavily in private shows. Those were the way to make the most money, but Angel found them the most draining as the one-on-one attention could be quite intense.

As the private shows starring Angel ramped up in frequency, the other girls’ attitudes towards her began to shift. They were less friendly and more catty whenever she would slip up during an act. The old guard closed ranks and shut her out, and Angel was forced to re-adopt her more solitary ways that had followed her for the bulk of her life. The corners of her mouth twitched as she recalled all this, remembering that Erik and Charles came to call at the club just a short week after she had been unceremoniously kicked out of the club sisterhood and given two weeks to find a new place to live. Some things did have good timing. 

The bronze-skinned beauty swung her legs over to the side of the bed and contemplated how cold the floor was going to be that morning. Her eyes flickered over to the drawer on her bedside table, which concealed the lockbox where she kept her valuables. 

Angel didn’t spend much of her money. She bought the essentials, things to keep her looking her best for her job, and food. But she stockpiled the rest. Had to be ready to bolt when things got bad, as they often did. 

She slowly lowered her feet to the floor. Yep, it was freezing. But that shower wasn’t going to take itself. So she leapt off the bed and sprinted to the ensuite. The morning got considerably better once the warm water was running and her usual repertoire of shower tunes were running through her head. Yeah, she could get used to this. Space all to herself and quiet mornings and not having to deal with anyone’s snoring, horrible alarms, or worse, their public sex lives. 

The dancer tied her hair up in a towel and dressed quickly to avoid further chill. It wasn’t terribly late into spring yet, so Westchester was still quite cold in the mornings. But spring was going to be stunning at the estate, if the early wildflower buds were any indication. She found herself humming a bit as she dressed. Life had fallen into a rhythm at Westchester over the past few months, something she could almost call comfortable. 

Right. Time for coffee. The mansion had an absurdly fancy coffee maker and Charles had just bought new beans. Angel relished the thought. She made her way downstairs, keeping her steps light so as to avoid waking anyone else up. 

The kitchen was empty. Thank the Lord. Angel immediately set about making herself coffee, and switched on the small kitchen television while she was at it. It was already tuned to the local news. 

“The New York State Assembly will be formally presenting a proposal today for a statewide Mutant Registration Act.”

Angel knew that was the only sentence she needed to hear in order to be angry for the rest of the day, but she continued watching anyways. The irritatingly perky news caster went on. Angel removed her cup from beneath the coffee maker and felt a tiny bit of sanity spike her blood with the first hit of caffeine. 

“Interviews this week with state congressional staffers indicate that there is widespread support for a Registration Act.” 

God, she looked like she was probably irritating as fuck. Her coiffed hair fell slightly into her face as she spoke, and her eyes were falsely serious, as if this was something she had any idea about. As if this woman would ever know the consequences of a law like this. 

“A congressional staffer for the bill’s original backer is on the record saying that he believes the Mutant Registration Act would greatly bolster the security of the state, and actively encourages the national congress to consider a similar measure.” 

That was all Angel had patience for. She switched off the television and sipped her coffee. 

“Well. That was a cheery broadcast,” a voice came from behind her. She spun around, expertly managing to not spill her coffee in the process. Alex looked impressed. 

“You don’t mess around when it comes to caffeine, huh?” he remarked. 

“Is there a reason you’re interrupting my morning?” She sipped her coffee again and raised her eyebrows, expectant. Alex held up his hands in mock surrender. 

“Sorry, didn’t realize this was a sacred time of day for you,” he said, his country drawl slightly more pronounced. Angel rolled her eyes. 

“Cut it out. I’m not into that stupid country boy act, so you can stop trying.” She drained the rest of her coffee and walked over to the sink to wash the mug. Alex folded his arms. 

“Pretty shitty that the state congress is so keen on that registration act, huh?” he said.

Angel rinsed out the mug and hung it on the drying rack. He wanted to go there. Fine, they would go there. 

“Yeah, in fact, it’s probably the worst thing I’ve heard all week.” She turned to face Alex and mimicked his posture. He nodded. 

“Makes you think that Brotherhood group isn’t so crazy for trying to stop them, huh?” Alex made eye contact with her while he spoke, but she quickly stared him down. 

“I don’t know if I’m ever behind whack jobs who think that more gun-brandishing is the solution to everything,” she snapped. Alex smirked. 

“So you’re a pacifist,” he supplied. Angel rolled her eyes again. 

“Hell no. Sometimes you’ve got to knock an idiot around a few times to make him see reason. But there’s no reason to take said knocking around to the level where you start to target families that had nothing to do with it,” she enunciated the last few words more carefully and more angrily than she intended to. Alex was looking at her a bit strangely. 

She held her ground. It wasn’t the first time she had gotten into an argument with the self-important blonde boy. They tried to avoid each other most of the time, because they would usually erupt into bickering over who was using the coffee maker, who was watching the more irritating thing on television, or, childishly enough, who was taking up too much space. Charles had tried to get them to have a heart-to-heart to resolve their differences, but it didn’t work. And Angel was fine with that. Alex was a huge jerk and as far as she was concerned, there was nothing she could do to change that. But she still had to prove him wrong and take him down a few notches. It was only right. He continued. 

“Sounds like this rant is coming from experience…?” Alex trailed off, making a ‘go on’ motion with his hand. Angel shook her head firmly. 

“The point is, you keep any necessary lesson-teaching to the responsible parties and the responsible parties only. More destruction than is strictly necessary is irresponsible.” 

Alex looked thoughtful at this. Which seemed out of place for the guy who usually just said whatever tripe was on his mind. 

“Sometimes you can’t avoid that collateral damage though,” he pointed out. Angel shook her head again. 

“The only people who say that are the gun-brandishing whack jobs,” she maintained. Alex frowned. 

“Is that what you’re saying I am?” He pointed to himself, daring her to direct the insult at him. She shrugged her shoulders. 

“I don’t have to say it,” she answered, and left the room with Alex rooted to the spot, his mouth hanging slightly agape. That was the best way to leave an idiot anyhow. She pulled on her sneakers at the front door and headed outside. The air was brisk, but not as cold as the freezing floor this morning would have made it seem. 

Before Angel had been walking for more than five minutes, she heard footsteps behind her. God, who was it now. 

“Hi Angel!” That somewhat high-pitched, unmistakably Irish and over-caffeinated voice could only belong to one person. 

“Sean. Hello.” She didn’t bother trying to sound excited. The two of them had spent a fair amount of time together over the past few weeks training with Charles to hone their powers further. Charles wanted Sean to be able to use his sonic scream to fly, and he wanted Angel to be able to breathe fireballs rather than the acidic thing that caught fire that she was doing now. It was working, and Angel was quite proud of her progress. There was a trail of small bushes around the Westchester campus that had been reduced to ash that she gladly claimed credit for. 

But the time she spent with Sean during training was more than enough, so she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him. 

“Nice day for a walk, isn’t it?” The ginger boy turned to look at her briefly as they walked. She offered a tight smile. 

“Yep. Always nice to have some quiet in the mornings.” She picked up her walking pace, hoping he’d get the hint or she’d tire him out. Whichever happened first. To her dismay, he kept up easily. Damn his lanky legs. 

“I heard about the Registration Act that’s going to go through the New York Assembly.” The words just tumbled out of the Irish boy’s mouth, as if he’d been waiting to say them for awhile but hadn’t been quite sure how to put all the words together, and now they were just coming out in a heap. Angel sighed. This topic was just not going to end today, it would seem. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty awful,” she said shortly. A bluebird fluttered from the branch above them to one further ahead. 

“I just keep thinking back to that guy at the rally who seemed convinced that it would lead to this period of horrible discrimination against mutants. That we would lose our jobs or just not be able to get jobs and that we’d start to be ostracized. I don’t really know if I believe him, I think he’s got too negative of a view of humans. Non-mutant humans, I mean, because we’re human too. But he seems to think they’re just out to get us, and I guess I don’t really believe that. I think they’re just scared. I just want to make them less scared.” Sean paused to draw breath. Angel pursed her lips. The boy could really ramble when he wanted to. 

“You have an awful lot of faith in people who are so freaked out by who you are that they want to mark you publicly to make sure that everyone knows you’re different. So that everyone knows you are not normal, and that you should be feared for that.” The last few words came out and Angel found herself surprised that she said them at all. But there they were anyways, out in the world, for everyone to see. Sean had gone quiet. 

“I’m already different, Angel. So are you. There’s not really a reason to pretend otherwise.” He ran a hand through his flaming red hair. Angel sighed. 

“It’s a great sentiment, Sean. But is it really so bad to want to fly under the radar? I’m tired of being singled out for things I can’t control.” She was surprised that she was getting into this conversation with Sean at all. They had become friends over the past several weeks at Westchester, but that was largely due to them spending so much time together under Charles’ tutelage. Angel usually made a concentrated effort to not spend time with Sean outside their training, and to not talk to him about things beyond their training. It wasn’t that he was boring to talk to or anything. Keeping things close to the chest was a safer option. It always had been. 

Sean was looking at her with an intensity beyond his usual neuroticism. She looked at him sideways and met his bright green eyes. He seemed to see something there and he cracked a smile. 

“Why fit in when you were born to stand out?” he said. Angel sighed but smiled a little too in spite of herself. 

“God, you’re so cheesy,” she returned, shoving his shoulder. Sean gave a little bow. 

“I aim to please,” he drawled. 

“And you’re so Irish!” Angel complained. Sean ruffled his bright red hair; his confidence seemed to be bolstered by her teasing. 

“You love it. Everyone loves the Irish brogue.” Sean defended himself. “Besides, this red hair is like an extra superpower in and of itself. I could probably take someone’s eye out with how bright my hair is.” Angel laughed. 

“If you say so,” she allowed. 

They fell silent and walked down the path together. It curved around the estate, overlooked the large meadow in front of the mansion, and eventually led back up to the main entrance. Angel would never admit it aloud, but she was finding the ginger’s companionship actually pretty enjoyable. 

_____________

“So you’re telling me that you’ve never seen West Side Story?” 

“I told you, TV has never been a big priority of mine.” 

“It’s a movie, for starters, and there are some things you just have to see.” 

“Same difference.” 

“Still, I would have thought a girl like you would have already seen the movie and starred in the musical as Anita or something.” 

“Is that meant to be a compliment?” Angel folded her arms and regarded Sean across the now-empty firepit. He shrugged.

“Take it however you want. Anita’s pretty badass and smart and-” Sean stopped himself before saying the final descriptor, a small blush blooming across his cheeks. Angel had a pretty good idea she knew what he was going to say, and grinned. 

“And what?” They had been walking around the Westchester campus for about an hour and the conversation was getting easier and more enjoyable as time went on. 

“Just a really good character, is all.” Sean stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground. Angel smirked. Alright, fine. Sean was a pretty good kid.


	14. Erik and Darwin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik does some one-on-one training with Darwin to push the limits of his mutation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to chug along! We're just about at the two-thirds point, so now's a good time for me to direct you to [my beta's blog](hermadnessmac.tumblr.com), who is wonderful and writes amazing fic, and [my blog](ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com) if you ever want to come and flail with me about Cherik. Thanks for reading!!

Erik was slowly getting used to Charles’ mad training schedule. Typically academic classes would happen in the mornings, led by Hank and Raven, and then more practical sessions would be led by Charles and himself in the afternoons and evenings. 

Though occasionally Charles would interject in Hank’s genetics classes with his own commentary and over-excited exclaiming about the latest research he’d heard about when it came to genetics. The students all tolerated this admirably, in Erik’s opinion. Charles was a delight and his excitement over even the smallest things was part of what drew Erik to him. But the constant excitement could be a bit much sometimes.

Erik had gotten the opportunity to do basic martial arts training with all the students. They proved to be reasonably adept at hand-to-hand combat. Charles wasn’t uncomfortable with it because he was sure it had more to do with learning self-control than it did learning actual fighting skills. Erik didn’t believe that as firmly as Charles did, but sometimes it was best to pick one’s battles and not make everything a hill to fight and die on. 

Today he was going to work with Darwin on developing his ability. Usually these sessions having to do with developing finesse in one’s ability were left up to Charles, but Erik had insisted that he spend this time with Darwin. The boy’s powers had enormous potential, and Erik was curious about how far they could go. So he had set up a series of challenges around the Westchester property and found himself (despite his reservations in interacting with young adults) looking forward to the one-on-one time with the kid. 

Hank’s lecture on types of mutation closed that morning and Erik ate lunch with the students. He listened to their chatter about the lecture and did his best to involve himself in the conversation, though that was a bit difficult when they began a fast-paced group argument about the latest music artists that were at the top of the charts. Erik wouldn’t have told them aloud, but he rarely listened to the radio since escaping Auschwitz in his teen years, so his pop culture knowledge was woefully behind. 

Lunch closed, and Erik cleared his plate. 

“Darwin, you’re with me now,” he informed the ebony-skinned boy. Darwin nodded and followed Erik out of the kitchen and down into the basement of the house. 

“So what are we going to get up to today?” he ventured. 

“Testing the range of your abilities,” Erik answered. Darwin didn’t answer for a moment. “It’s alright,” Erik amended. ‘We won’t do anything too over-the-top. We’ll start with situations that you’re comfortable with and work our way up from there. It’s all fine.” He hoped that sounded comforting.

They arrived downstairs and Darwin seemed a little more relaxed when the first thing he saw was a small fish tank filled with water. There weren’t any fish in it. 

“Right, so the first thing I want you to do is stick your head underwater.” Erik gestured to the fish tank. Darwin obliged and walked over to the fish tank. 

“No problem,” he told Erik, his tone tipping over into the realm of enthusiasm. “I’ve done this one before, it’s actually pretty cool to watch. Or so I’ve been told.” And with that he plunged his head into the water, eyes closed. Erik watched him closely, and was amazed when gills seemed to just unfold from the boy’s neck. Once the gills had formed completely, Darwin’s eyes opened and he sucked in a deep breath through his mouth and out through his gills. Erik nodded, impressed. Darwin puckered his lips like a fish for effect, and Erik grinned a little. 

“Pretty cool, huh?” Darwin surfaced from the fish tank and the gills immediately receded back into his neck. 

“It’s really an excellent ability, Darwin. Was this the first aspect of it that you discovered?” Erik asked. The boy nodded. 

“Yeah, I was like 8 and my brothers and I were having a contest to see who could hold their breath the longest. I didn’t realize that I had been underwater for a solid ten minutes until my brothers were shaking me and forcing me to come back up to the surface. My older brother was totally freaked out, he swore that he saw gills on my neck and he didn’t talk to me for a week. I hadn’t seen them and I hadn’t felt them grow out, so I thought I was just really good at holding my breath.” Darwin shrugged. Erik marveled at how blase his tone was. 

“But I tried again later in the bathtub and felt for the gills. And they were there. So I just didn’t tell anybody and I always surfaced after two minutes of holding my breath from then on. Still won most of the contests I got into, but usually no one would notice the gills,” Darwin finished. Erik folded his arms. 

“So you’ve just kept it a secret?” he asked. Darwin nodded.

“Well, I haven’t really been around people who aren’t terrified of what I can do until now,” he pointed out. Erik nodded. 

“Fair enough. Well, let’s try the next thing.” He snapped his fingers, and the metal-lined fishtank lifted from the table and moved itself out of the way to the side of the room. Erik motioned for Darwin to help him move the wooden table that the tank was situated on to the side. Once the room was clear, Erik went over to the wall where the light switch was.

“Now for night vision. So shut your eyes,” he ordered the boy. Darwin obliged, apparently not put off by Erik’s direct commands. “I’m going to turn off the lights, and then when I tell you, I want you to come and find me in the room. This time, come and tap my left elbow to let me know you’ve found me. That clear?” 

“Gotcha,” Darwin replied. Erik switched off the lights, and stumbled his way over to the furthest corner of the room. Damn, the basement was really pitch black once the lights were out.

“Alright, come and find me,” he called across the room. 

“Coming,” Darwin responded. Erik refrained from tapping his foot while he waited; he didn’t want to give the boy any clues. After what couldn’t have been more than a minute, he felt a few fingers tapping gently at his left elbow. 

“That was quick,” Erik remarked. 

“I can do it faster,” Darwin said. “I haven’t really tried the night vision thing much, so I don’t think my body’s used to reacting to this one yet. Can we do it again?” 

“Yeah,” Erik said. “Go back to your starting spot and shut your eyes again. But switch on the light before you do it?” Darwin did as he was told, then stood obediently by the light switch. Erik chose three more spots in the big basement to hide himself in the dark, and Darwin found him each time with progressing speed. Once the boy had found him in under ten seconds, Erik decided it was time to move on to testing a new ability. 

“You learn fast,” he told Darwin. The boy beamed with pride. Erik didn’t know how to respond, he hadn’t intended to pay the boy a compliment. He was just stating the obvious. Darwin looked happy anyways, so he just moved on to what he was going to say next. 

“How do you feel about working with flame now?” asked Erik. Darwin nodded slowly. 

“Sure,” he said dubiously. Erik unearthed a lighter from his pocket. 

“We can start with a small flame and move up from there.” He lit the lighter and held it out to Darwin. “Just start with one finger, alright?” 

The inky-haired boy stuck out his pointer finger and placed it directly in the flame. He flinched initially at what Erik supposed was a passing pain, but his expression relaxed quickly and his finger took on a bit of a sheen. 

“Okay now take it out,” Erik instructed Darwin, and the boy did as he was told. Erik watched the finger carefully, and the sheen receded so the finger was back to its usual color. They repeated this process several times until Erik was satisfied.   
“What were you looking for?” asked Darwin. Erik didn’t answer at first, but clicked the lighter off and on instead, thinking of what to say. 

“I just want to know what your skin is doing right in the moment to make it flame proof,” he answered. “It’s clearly becoming flame-proof, but it’s not clear in what way.” 

Darwin shrugged. 

“I don’t really know myself. It looks like some kind of coating?” he offered. Erik nodded a little. 

“Maybe we can try it in the fireplace, if you’d be willing,” Erik suggested. Darwin agreed, and they spent the next half hour sticking Darwin’s hand and arm in the fire to watch how the flame-proof sheen spread from the tips of his fingers up his arm and a little bit past whatever section of his arm was currently in the fire. Erik still didn’t have a satisfactory answer after all the experimenting, but he was satisfied with watching the coating move up and down the boy’s arm. 

“Well, this is really something else,” Erik said after they had finished with the fireplace. “I think you’ve got some truly immense potential in developing your powers here.” He led Darwin into the kitchen and put the kettle on to make some tea for the pair of them. 

The pewter kettle whirred softly as the water began to heat up, and Erik rifled through the cabinets to find some appropriate tea. 

“What kind of tea do you like,” he asked Darwin, still not facing him. 

“Earl grey,” Darwin answered promptly. Erik pulled down a box of the requested variety and pulled out two bags. 

“Charles would be so proud, you’ve chosen a very British tea,” Erik remarked. Darwin walked over to the tea kettle and hovered his hands around it in what Erik thought might be an attempt to warm them. Darwin stuck out one finger and placed it directly on the hot kettle. Charles probably would not be wild about allowing Darwin to hurt himself like this, but Erik was interested in what would happen. Darwin’s brows knitted a little in pain, but he kept his finger on the kettle. He lifted it off after a few minutes, and it glowed red. The boy blew gently on the red finger, and it ignited in a small flame. 

He turned to Erik and brandished the flame. 

“Cool, huh?” he exclaimed. Erik nodded, just staring at the flame, not sure what to do about it. 

“Incredible,” Erik said. “Just incredible.” Darwin extinguished the flame by pinching it with two fingers. The kettle began to whistle, and Erik removed it promptly from the stove. He poured two mugs full of hot water and deposited the tea bags inside.

“I do hope you’re not about to have my favorite tea without me,” Charles’ voice came floating into the kitchen and he appeared in the doorway. Erik could feel his features lighting up, and thanked the gods that his back was to Darwin. 

“You can smell Earl Grey at a mile off, I should have known that,” Erik chuckled, and he filled a third mug with hot water and a tea bag. Charles accepted the tea and sat at the kitchen table, motioning for Darwin and Erik to join him. 

“How has the day of training gone?” Charles inquired, holding his tea up to his nose and inhaling deeply. 

“Good,” Darwin answered. “It turns out I can develop night vision pretty quickly, and flame-resistance.” He sipped his own tea. 

“Brilliant!” Charles exclaimed, and Darwin grinned into his tea, pleased at the praise. Erik had noticed that about most of the students, they thrived on Charles’ praise and grew more confident because of it. Erik supposed he understood that. Charles’ encouragement was quite important to Erik’s own confidence, though he hadn’t told Charles that. The man probably knew. One didn’t need to be a telepath to understand that pretty much everyone he was around adored him. 

“I kind of like this,” Darwin said, a bit out of the blue. Erik took a draught of his tea and looked at Charles. The brunette patted Darwin’s arm that was on the table. 

“Like what, my friend?” Charles encouraged the boy to go on. 

“Being here at Westchester,” Darwin continued. His eyes were fixed on the table, but his voice was confident. 

“Well, I’m glad of that,” Charles told him. “That was rather the goal, to allow gifted youngsters to feel at home.” Darwin looked up at Charles and nodded, another small smile crossing his face. 

“Yeah. Yeah I do feel at home,” he agreed, and drained his tea. Erik offered him as good of an amiable smile as he could manage, and Darwin rose from the table to go and wash his mug. His slowly fading footsteps after the sink water turned off told Erik he was probably headed up to his room. 

“He’s quite an extraordinary kid,” Erik told Charles. The brunette nodded and continued nursing his tea. 

“They all are,” Charles reminded Erik. 

“I know that, but Darwin’s reactive abilities are really astonishing, and we only tested three of them today!” Erik set down his tea with a little more of a bang than he had intended. “It was just incredible, once you test one of those abilities several times in a row, his speed of reaction goes up! He’s got immense potential. Nearly impossible to beat in a fight, I’d imagine.” 

Right as he’d said the words, Erik realized they probably weren’t the best choice. The air between them went a bit frosty. Charles’ facial expression didn’t change dramatically, but there was a slight hardening in it that Erik recognized only because he had known Charles for so long. 

“Well, that’s excellent. But he isn’t a soldier.” 

“I know that. But he’s got the potential to be a great one.” Erik picked up his tea again, but was dismayed to find that it had gone lukewarm. 

“I hope you didn’t tell him that,” Charles’ voice was measured. 

“I didn’t, but where’s the harm in him knowing that he could take down anyone who tried to cross him? It would probably be a big boost to his confidence.” 

“Erik, the whole point of bringing the students here is so that they _don’t have to worry_ about violent confrontations with people who don’t understand them!” Charles voice had risen a bit. “What happened to our promise to keep them safe?” 

Erik’s lips thinned. “We never promised that. You promised that to yourself.” 

“You wanted it too!” Charles ran a hand through his slightly unkempt locks. “You wanted them to have a place where they could be free to realize their potential and to commune with their mutant brothers and sisters. You wanted that!” 

“I still want it,” Erik insisted. “But I also want to be realistic and prepare them for every eventuality.” 

“Every eventuality. You mean you want them to be able to fight for us should the time come.” 

“Fight for themselves, Charles. For their personal freedom,” Erik corrected him. Charles cradled his chin in his hands. 

“I don’t want to turn them into military pawns, Erik.” 

That was enough for today. Erik rose suddenly from the table, and the chair scraped unpleasantly across the floor. The blonde snatched up his mug and stormed off from the room, leaving Charles alone at the table.


	15. Westchester Hatches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik deal with their previous confrontation. The mutants receive some unsettling news from the New York State government........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get intense, ya'll. Thanks for reading, and do let me know if you're enjoying yourself or if you have feedback. Comments are so motivating for updates.

Charles went to bed early that night, but didn’t feel Erik climb into bed beside him. So the brunette slept alone, and had a restless night filled with surreal dreams of his students in military uniforms marching off to their death against a formless dark spectre. 

He woke up in a cold sweat before the sun rose, unable to catch his breath for several minutes. The telepath felt like a child. He slept without his partner for one night, and he immediately has a nightmare about the students in his charge coming to physical harm. Great. How was he supposed to deal with a real crisis if dreamed crises had him shaking in his bed?

Tea would probably be a good option right now. Tea was always a good option. He peeled off his pajamas that were clinging to him, got dressed, and padded softly downstairs. It was deserted. 

Erik wasn’t on the couch, though he supposed that wasn’t indicative of much. The mansion was enormous and there were multiple sleeping alternatives. But Charles would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping Erik would be there, still dazed a bit with sleep and receptive to Charles apologizing and kissing the drowsiness out of him. 

Wonderful as that fantasy was, Charles knew it was hardly realistic. Erik had told Charles that he had felt like a mindless pawn underneath Dr. Schmidt as a young teenager in Auschwitz. And Charles had deliberately insinuated that by preparing their students for combat, they would become mindless pawns as well. The very thing Erik hated most. 

Charles rested his forehead in his hand as the tea kettle slowly heated up on the stove. Maybe someday he would figure out how to not put his foot in his mouth when it came to the people he loved. Until then, he would sit and drink his tea and feel like a complete, utter cock. 

A light rain started to patter on the windows outside. Charles sipped his tea and stared morosely out the window. They would figure it out. They should. Wouldn’t they? Their very first conversation was an argument, for God’s sake. Charles had sat next to Erik at a lecture at Columbia about unusual mutations in animals and they had spent three hours afterwards arguing about the presenter’s methods and what his project insinuated about his opinion on human mutants. 

Charles took another sip and remembered fondly how refreshing it had been to discuss important issues with someone who was his intellectual equal. He also remembered that part of what had drawn him to Erik in the first place was his refusal to take anything Charles had said at face value and how they disagreed on almost everything. 

“And damn it all if I don’t love the way he sticks to his guns about everything,” Charles muttered to himself. 

“I’d venture I love the same thing about you.” 

Charles turned around jerkily, sloshing a bit of his tea over the sides. Erik was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. God, the man always looked devastatingly handsome in the mornings, especially when his hair was ruffled on the sides like it was now and there was some stubble on his cheeks because he hadn’t shaved yet. Charles couldn’t help the tiny sigh that escaped him. 

“Erik, I’m so sorry for what I said yesterday-” he began, and Erik held up a hand. 

“No need to apologize,” Erik assured him. But Charles wasn’t satisfied. 

“No, there is a need,” he insisted. “I’ve been steamrolling you in the running of this school because I know I’m more comfortable than you with teenagers, but that doesn’t mean that your opinion on how this place ought to be run isn’t valuable. I invalidated that, and I deliberately insulted you, and I feel terrible about it. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” Charles’ bright blue eyes met Erik’s grey-green orbs. There was a surprising amount of compassion in Erik’s eyes, more than Charles thought he deserved at this moment. 

Erik walked over to Charles’ seat at the kitchen table and knelt next to him. Erik was tall enough that it didn’t put him that much lower than Charles in his seat.

“I forgive you,” Erik said sincerely. Charles’ eyes filled with tears in spite of himself. It was a comparatively minor disagreement. But it still lifted a massive weight off the smaller man’s heart to have the forgiveness of the person he loved most in the world--the person he needed so desperately at his side all the time, but especially now that they had impressionable mutants in their charge. 

“You look like you didn’t sleep a wink,” Erik observed as he set about making himself a cup of tea. Charles shrugged.

“You weren’t there. Sue me, I’ve gotten used to you being there.” 

Erik poured hot water over his teabag. “I needed the cool-off time. But I’m sorry it lead to you sleeping poorly.” 

Charles sipped his own tea and shrugged again. Erik eyed him critically. 

“There’s something else,” he said. “You seem spooked. What’s going on?” 

“It’s silly,” Charles mumbled. “Bad dream.” He looked up at Erik and was grateful to find genuine concern in the taller man’s eyes. 

“It’s not silly, Charles. Tell me about it.” 

“It was just the students heading off to some battle and every last one of them dying,” Charles blurted out. “I’ve been trying to remember who they were fighting against and why it spooked me so much but I just can’t remember it. I can usually remember my dreams with perfect clarity. I’m a telepath, for god’s sake, I know my own mind pretty damn well.” Charles scratched his head. “But I can’t remember it. It was just dark and scary, and now I’m sitting here and cowering like a child.” 

Erik sipped his tea, looking thoughtful. 

“The Brotherhood terrorist group has been getting considerably more active lately,” he said. “Maybe that’s been weighing on you subconsciously.” 

Charles sat up a little straighter in his chair and reached for the remote control. 

“Marcus Newport has been reported missing and the militant group known as Brotherhood is claiming responsibility.” A bedraggled reporter sat at her desk and spoke directly into the camera. Charles was shaken by her appearance. 

“God, she actually looks terrified,” Charles sat further forward in his chair and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. 

“Seems about right, he was her brother.” Erik finished his tea and washed the cup. Charles buried his face in his hands. 

“Newport was one of the early supporters of the New York Mutant Registration Act,” the reporter went on. “He was discovered missing from his home yesterday evening at approximately 8:30 p.m. Viewers are asked to report any knowledge of his whereabouts to the following helpline.” A number scrolled across the bottom of the screen. 

“The Brotherhood group has been active for several months now. The closer the New York State Assembly has gotten to considering a statewide Registration Act, the more active the group has become. Newport is the second in what is shaping up to be a series of kidnappings of state senators who were instrumental in shaping the bill.” 

“Never liked that Newport man myself,” Erik returned to his seat next to Charles, who switched off the television. 

“I don’t either, but does that mean he deserves to be kidnapped?” Charles turned to Erik. The taller man looked far too calm about this. 

“Might teach him a thing or two about human-mutant relationships.” 

“Teach him a thing or two? What, that you do something to cross mutants and you end up kidnapped?” Charles was going to continue, but decided to stop. He and Erik had only just gotten out of a fight and he didn’t want to descend into another one. The conversation stopped mid-stream, and they were caught in a bit of an awkward stare-down. 

“I have always loved the way you just stick to your beliefs, no matter what.” Charles told Erik, his voice low. “I’m sorry I don’t respect your opinions more often.” Erik’s eyes softened. He stretched his hands out, palms up. Charles placed his hands into Erik’s, and the small gesture of affection felt like the apology was accepted. 

Footsteps sounded down the stairs, and Erik broke their embrace with an apologetic look to Charles. Sean came bounding into the room.

“It’s going to the floor,” he announced. “The bill. They’re going to start debating it today.” His lower lip was quivering slightly, but it was clear he was doing all he could to keep it together. Charles looked back at the television where a banner was ticking across the bottom of the screen. 

Mutant Registration Act to be Debated on House Floor Today. Shit. Charles scanned through the rest of the article. Today. It was going to be debated today. Erik was reading the article over his shoulder and he looked just as worried as Charles. 

“We need a contingency plan,” Erik said. “It’s time to start planning for the worst.” 

Erik was right. A hurricane was brewing.   
____________  
Charles called a meeting with the students as soon as they were all up. They gathered in the dining room, everyone seated around the table with their arms folded and their expressions ranging from fearful to furious. 

“As you all probably know, the New York State Assembly is going to start debating the local Registration Act today.” Charles began. 

“What you mean is, the Registration Act is basically already passed,” Angel piped up. 

“We do need to prepare for that eventuality,” Charles acknowledged. “So starting today, we’re going to start building up some food stores in the underground portion of the Westchester property.” 

“Is it really going to get that bad?” Darwin asked. He looked a bit nervous to be asking that question at all. 

“Maybe,” Charles answered. “There’s really no way of knowing. But it very easily could get that bad, and it’s better to be prepared than caught off-guard. So Erik is going to give you all your marching orders so we can get this done in the most efficient way possible.”

“Here’s what needs to happen.” Erik stepped forward. “We’re going to divide into three groups to head to all the nearest grocery stores to stock up on canned food today. Tomorrow it’ll be mixed nuts, and the day after that will be dried foods, like rice and beans. Everyone will have a list, and you’ll be given the money that you need for the groceries. Understood?” 

“Yeah, where’s all the money coming from?” Alex asked, smirking. “You some kind of heiress, Charles?” 

“I would have thought that obvious, given how you are all staying in this old estate that I clearly did not build and that I told you all on arrival that I inherited from my mother,” Charles snapped. “That’s enough of the stupid questions, Alex.” The sandy-haired snarker fell silent. 

“Everyone clear on what we’re doing?” asked Charles. They all nodded. “Right, Sean, Angel, and Raven-you all head to the Price Chopper, Alex and Erik to the Whole Foods, and Hank and Darwin and I will go to the Kroger.” 

They dispersed. Charles found his coat from the closet and gathered up Hank and Darwin. The ride out to the Kroger took about half an hour, as it was a bit out of the way for normal grocery shopping. Despite his general soft-spokenness, Hank held reasonably good conversations when it was just a few people. He genially engaged Darwin about his favorite things to study in school, and Charles was grateful for the time to just listen and not have to think too much. 

“Darwin, I’m just thrilled that you enjoy genetics as much as you do,” Hank exclaimed. “I mean, obviously it’s my favorite subject, but it’s always quite the find to discover someone with whom you can share your geeky pleasures.” 

“Please, it’s not geeky,” protested Darwin. “Genetics is a fantastic hobby and it’s something the world will become more and more interested in as mutation becomes more closely studied.” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Hank returned. “I’ve attended talks about unusual mutations in animals, but those have mostly been in regards to strange colorations, or the occasional extra toe. Not anything on the level of the human mutations that are on display at our little school, though.” 

“Yeah, I suppose it’s a little difficult to get studies to go through on human mutation,” Darwin observed. Hank was silent for a moment. 

“Darwin, have you ever considered studying your own DNA?” he ventured. The ebony-skinned boy thought about it. 

“Not seriously,” he answered slowly. “But that would be pretty interesting, I think.” 

“Pretty interesting?” Hank rejoined. “It would be utterly fascinating!” He turned to Charles, who was staring out the side window. “Charles, haven’t you got a lab set up at Westchester?” The brunette snapped out of his reverie. 

“I have, yes. For what purpose?” 

 

“Studying Darwin’s DNA!” Hank elbowed him in the shoulder in his excitement. “Haven’t you been paying attention?” Charles sat up a little straighter. 

“I’m terribly sorry, boys, I haven’t been. Mind is off in space, I’m afraid.” He turned around to look at Darwin. “Would you be alright with that? Studying your DNA?” He searched the boy’s dark eyes for some sign that this wasn’t okay, but he seemed genuinely curious about the outcome. 

“If anyone is going to examine me in a lab, I’d rather it be people I trust,” Darwin told him. Charles cracked a smile. 

“I’m glad you trust us, my friend.” 

They arrived at the Kroger, and Charles scribbled out a list of the canned goods they needed to procure while Hank chattered to Darwin about the various tests they could perform and how Darwin’s DNA could reveal so much about the nature of mutation as his powers were reactive. 

Charles felt his mood lightening as he listened to Hank go on. The man wasn’t especially talkative most of the time, but once you got him going on his favorite topics, there wasn’t a soul who could stop him. He had chosen well when it came to Hank. 

Shopping at Kroger went relatively smoothly. Charles insisted that they all purchase their goods separately and then meet at the car later on so as to avoid any unnecessary suspicion regarding the bulk of items they were buying. Hank pointed out that bulk shoppers were hardly unusual in New York; the upstate could be prone to big snowstorms sometimes and the big city had dealt with flooding in the past. Catastrophic events like that had prompted shoppers to go bulk before. Still, Charles didn’t want to stand out. 

They arrived back at Westchester with a trunk packed to the brim with canned goods, and it took a solid hour between the three of them to unload it all. Darwin marveled at the underground portion of the Westchester estate.

“It’s fantastic!” he was saying. “Charles, why was this even built in the first place? Were your parents doomsday preppers or something?” Charles smiled ruefully. 

“Well, they lived through the first World War. My mother was a nurse during the war and my father was a soldier. They saw the worst of everything and decided that should another chaotic event ensue, they would be ready.” He climbed up onto a step stool to set down the palette of canned beans he was carrying onto a high shelf. 

“But nothing happened in their lifetime. They died before World War II really settled in, so they thought it was a mistake to build this area in the first place. It’s a bit sad to think they died thinking this place was a mistake, but I suppose it’s better than them living in fear of a Mutant Registration Act.” Charles accepted another palette of canned beans to stack on top of the previous. 

“Well, they were just unwittingly providing for their son, then,” Darwin said decisively. Charles hopped down from the step stool and patted Darwin on the shoulder. 

“Your optimism is truly indispensible, my friend. Please hang onto it with everything you have.” 

Darwin saluted Charles in an over exaggerated manner. 

“Anything to help the cause.”


	16. Registration Passes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The New York State Mutant Registration Act has passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is starting to get a bit heavy, so I'll be sure to put content warnings where necessary. I hope you enjoy, and if you feel so inclined, do leave a comment. Best motivation ever. :)

A month passed. The mutants continued to steadily stockpile food at Westchester, and the result was a nearly-full underground bunker of emergency supplies. Charles surveyed the rows of stacked food in the underground area, pleased with the way things had unfolded. He recruited Alex and Darwin to help him develop a cataloguing system to survey the food stores. They continued to add to it, but at a slower pace than before.

Alex turned out to have quite the eye for cataloguing and keeping lots of little things straight. Charles was surprised at this, as the past few months had been marked by Alex constantly boasting regarding his ability and trying to compete with the others to develop it the most. 

“Has it crossed your mind, Alex, that you actually have quite a gift for juggling details?” Charles asked him as they added a new group of canned and dried goods to the stores together. Alex scratched the back of his head.

“I’m just concentrating on it,” he mumbled. “It’s nothing.” Charles clicked his tongue disapprovingly. 

“You are, though. You’re keeping these new purchases straight like it’s absolutely nothing, and I’m quite impressed with you. I’d like to upgrade you to bigger responsibilities if the time comes. Would that be alright with you?” Charles marked off a few bags of rice and turned to Alex for an answer. The sandy-haired boy’s eyes scanned the ceiling, stalling. 

“Don’t you want someone like Darwin to do that for you?” He wouldn’t meet Charles’ eyes. Charles set down his clipboard and pen. 

“Darwin is a very smart young man, but his talents lie in the sciences and in understanding things of a genetic nature. He balks when it comes to numbers and spreadsheets. You love entering these things into our computer and you do it faster than anyone else in the house. I won’t have you denying your talents, Alex.” Charles folded his arms. 

“Okay, yeah, I’ll do it,” he muttered. He still wouldn’t look at Charles, but the telepath detected a slight upward flick in the boy’s mood. Good. Alex was a tough nut to crack, and the temptation to delve into his brain without permission was a difficult one to resist. 

But Charles had been resisting it for several months now, and felt he was finally making some headway in unlocking the boy’s potential. All of the students were guarded in their own way, and Charles understood their need to be part of a crowd, and to avoid standing out. 

But this was a safe space. Charles wanted them to feel as though they could shine in their various giftings. Cracking through each individual protective shell was a massive challenge, but he was up to it. 

They finished cataloguing the newest purchase of dried foods and went up to the main kitchen area where everyone was having lunch. The rest of the students were gathered around the small kitchen television, all in various states of completion of their lunches. Erik saw Charles and Alex coming into the kitchen area and motioned for them to come and see what was on the news. 

“And so today, passing with a near-unanimous vote, the New York State Mutant Registration Act has become law.” 

Charles felt the air go out of the room. 

“All mutants have 30 days to register with their local police precincts and to receive a small tattoo on the underside of their wrists to indicate their mutant status. Failure to register within a week of the final deadline will result in cash fines.” 

The reporter went on for several more minutes about the length of the debate leading up to the passage of the Registration Act and where mutants could find more information, but no one in the room seemed to be listening. 

Some were sipping their tea mechanically, others pushing food around their plates, and others washing their dishes with more force than was strictly necessary. Erik was pacing at the front of the kitchen. He looked like he was about to say something. 

“Well, we’ve planned for this,” the metal-manipulator told the gathered students. “This is not a surprise, and we are ready to deal with it.” 

“Are we going to register?” asked Sean. Charles and Erik had discussed this eventuality.

“No,” Erik said firmly. “We’re going to carry on with our lives. But we’re going to have to restrict our activities to Westchester more so than usual. We’ll still send out contingents to build up our food stores, but we’ll just have to begin hunkering down here.” 

“And just stay this way forever? I don’t want to live here forever!” Angel was drumming her fingernails on the table. 

“I don’t think the situation is ideal for any of us, Angel,” Erik responded crisply. “We can look for other mutant groups that will take you in in a state that doesn’t have a Registration Act in place, but until then, your best chance of safety is here. With us.” Angel still looked angry, but she didn’t say anything. 

“What about the other mutants in New York?” asked Darwin. “We can’t be the only ones.” 

“We’re not the only ones,” Charles answered. “The rallies in New York City ought to be proof of that. We’ll get in contact with other mutants to see how they’re responding, but I would ask you all to leave that to Erik, Raven, Hank, and myself. We will keep you all informed as things unfold, but our chief concern is the safety of our students. Don’t compromise the safe haven that is Westchester by doing anything stupid.” 

“So what do we do now?” asked Alex. His voice was uncharacteristically small and uncertain. 

“We’ll carry on with lessons like we always do,” Erik told him. “Hank and Raven will be handling morning classes like they always do, and Charles and I will be doing afternoon practical lessons like we always do. Things will carry on.” Charles was pleased with the growth in Erik’s communication skills to the students. He was nearly warm just then.

The room seemed to be thawing a bit. Hank and Raven took charge and divided their students into their morning lectures. They all filed out of the room, leaving just Charles and Erik in the kitchen. 

“How do you propose to get in touch with the other mutants in New York City?” Erik set about washing the remaining dishes in the kitchen. Charles leaned up against the kitchen counter and thought about it. 

“I’m friendly with Corsair,” he said, wondering how the rally-leader had reacted to the news. “She might know a thing or two about what we should do to network with other mutants. And it’ll be good to figure out which mutants are registering and which are not.” 

“Do you think the mutants from the rally will register?” Erik laid out several plates to dry on the drying rack. 

“Many will,” Charles said heavily. “They’ll want to convince non-mutants that there’s nothing to fear from us, so they’ll try to demonstrate that by being among the first to register.” 

“But that’s precisely what you want,” Erik turned and folded his arms. “You want to show humans there’s nothing to fear from us, but you’re not going to register.” 

“No, I’m not,” Charles agreed. “But that’s for the sake of my family and the protection of this house than for my own beliefs.”

“So we’re family, then?” Erik’s voice sounded odd. Constricted. 

“Haven’t we always been?” Charles traced patterns on the granite countertop.

Erik dried off his hands and looked around the kitchen to make sure no one was coming in. He took Charles’ hands into his own and kissed his partner. 

“I love you, Charles.” Erik’s voice was low to avoid being overheard, but the words were sincere. Charles couldn’t help tears from welling up in his eyes. He knew that Erik loved him. Everything they had been through together and this crazy scheme they were putting on was proof of that. But the man more often expressed it through his actions and very rarely through his words, so it was nice to hear it out loud once in awhile. 

“Do you? After everything?” 

“And through everything to come.” 

“I never thought I’d find someone like you.” 

“But here we are.” Erik twitched a small smile. 

“Here we are.” Charles found himself distracted by the care in Erik’s eyes, and trailed off before saying anything else. Erik kissed him again. 

“You always were so flowery,” he said affectionately. “I do love that about you.” They held hands for a few more moments, and then Erik broke the embrace to finish washing the dishes. 

Charles went upstairs to their room to retrieve the phone number he had for Corsair. He dialed the number on the estate’s landline, and got her answering machine. 

“Corsair, listen, it’s Professor X from the Big Apple Rallies. Got some tips to pass on, call me with a time and place.” He hung up, hoping the message wasn’t too vague. Professor X was a nickname he had gained at Columbia. Corsair had bestowed the nickname upon him. 

“Charles! Come down here and look at this!” Erik’s voice reached Charles from downstairs. The brunette obliged and found Erik in the kitchen at the television again. 

“Early registrants are shown here,” the reporter was saying. Erik was jabbing his finger at two of the people in line in particular. Charles furrowed his brow. It was the green-haired boy and the girl with the long, dark braid from the rally several months ago. The rally in which they had displayed wildly opposing ideas. 

“Shit,” Charles rubbed his chin. “Both of them? Did he just switch his opinion as soon as any consequences turned up?” 

“Apparently so,” Erik was still staring at the television. “I would bet Corsair is next. Or is she stronger than these two?” Charles shook his head.

“She sticks to her guns, Corsair. She doesn’t let out her opinions much at the rallies, but she would sooner cut off her left arm than give in to the government forcing her to register.” Charles smiled a little as he thought about how stubborn she had been on theses issues at Columbia. 

“She sounds like someone I’d like to get to know,” Erik remarked.

“Yeah, you’d love her,” agreed Charles. “She’s a right firecracker, that one.” 

There was a knock at the door. Charles went to get it, with Erik following closely behind him. A small man with dark, shaggy hair and dark red skin was waiting behind the door. 

“I’ve got a message from Corsair.” He began without any preamble as soon as Charles had opened the door. “I’m Azazel, and Corsair has requested that you make use of me as a messenger until we can devise a better method of communication.” The crimson-skinned boy handed Charles a folded up piece of paper, and the brunette accepted it and read it aloud. 

“Many mutants are registering, but will no doubt end up excluded from jobs at some point and therefore any source of income. You may need to be prepared to provide for hungry mutants soon. I will come to Westchester tomorrow so we can strategize further.” Charles folded up the note again and put it in his pocket. 

“It would help with my schedule for today if you could write her a message back so that I can take it to her,” Azazel said pointedly. Charles nodded. 

“Right. Erik, is that acceptable for her to come and be part of our strategy team?” Charles turned to his partner. 

“Yes, alright. I don’t want her taking over things, though, we have constructed a good system here and I won’t have someone else mucking it up.” Erik sounded a bit defensive, but Charles had a feeling he knew why. 

“Of course. She’ll fit in to our existing schemes, not to worry.” Charles took the note out of his pocket and scrawled that it was acceptable for her to come that day and that they would be pleased to see her again. He folded the note once more and handed it to Azazel. The man took it, nodded sharply, and disappeared in a plume of red smoke. Charles turned to Erik with what he was sure was a goofy grin on his face. 

“Alright, fine, teleporters are pretty excellent,” Erik conceded. 

“Damn right they are.” Charles shut the door and they made their way back into the kitchen. Hank and Raven were there, chatting over the kitchen island. 

“How are my favorite boys?” asked Raven, breaking into a smile upon their arrival. 

“Morning classes go okay?” Erik stood between the two of them while Charles rifled absently in the food pantry. 

“Quite well,” Hank responded. “They are picking up on basic evolutionary principles quite well, and might even be ready for some practical work in the lab fairly soon.” Erik raised his eyebrows. 

“What, do you mean analysis of their own DNA?” 

“Darwin told you about that, did he?” Hank looked quite pleased with himself. “The other students were interested in studying their own genetics as well.” 

“Doesn’t take long for much of anything to get out around this house,” Erik said drily. Hank and Raven exchanged a look that had a vague note of panic in it, and Erik made a mental note to uncover a few embarrassing secrets about those two. Raven probably had christened various parts of the house with Hank and Erik secretly loved having gossip like that on his friends. Hank recovered from his moment of distraction. 

“It would be quite useful to study the nature of each of these students’ mutations,” he explained. “It’s not that unreasonable to think that perhaps individuals in the government might want to know about our mutations, and it can’t hurt to know about it before they do.” 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a government conspiracy theorist, Hank.” Erik was actually a bit impressed with him. That would have been something he might have suggested, if he had understood genetics as deeply as Hank did. 

“Just start with blood and saliva samples, would you?” Charles joined in at this point, having not found anything to his liking in the pantry. 

“Sure, Charles, that’s fair,” Hank agreed. 

“Just don’t want these kids to feel completely like lab rats,” Charles expanded. “A pricked finger and spitting into a cup aren’t bad. I just don’t want to do sampling more intense than that unless the situation really calls for it.” 

“Fair enough,” Hank said again. “Although I would remind you that it may decrease the feeling of lab rat-ness if the students are the ones doing their own testing.” 

“I understand that, but all the same I want to keep things surface-level.” Charles’ voice was firm, and Hank stopped arguing. 

 

An awkward silence fell on the group. Erik broke it. 

“Well, we should probably get ready for Corsair coming up here tomorrow, shouldn’t we?” Further awkward silence. Raven looked between Charles and Hank, who were looking anywhere but at each other. 

“Right,” Raven agreed. “I’ll find Kurt and get him to go and collect her from the train station, and in the meantime, Hank can find something to cook for lunch. Not too extravagant, mind, but something nice all the same. Can you manage that?” She tipped her partner’s chin up from its downward-facing position so they were making eye contact. Hank nodded, and she kissed his cheek as she sauntered off to find their teleporting chauffer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com) if that's your thing. :)


	17. Hank and Raven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonder what our favorite Beast and Mystique get up to in the mansion? Wonder no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, do leave a comment if you're enjoying yourself. 'tis a magical thing. :)

Raven commandeered the room with the fireplace that evening. Charles and Erik had gone upstairs together to “play chess”, but Raven was under no illusions as to what they were actually doing. She smirked as she stood staring at the flickering flames she had just cultivated. 

Those two were so overly secretive about their relationship, when it was just terribly obvious how in love they were with one another. But she kept their secret, because she was well aware of the assholery that was often pulled by teenagers, and things were already tense enough as it was with the Registration Act. Didn’t need to add any further drama to things by uncovering Erik and Charles’ romantic relationship to a bunch of volatile young people.

The time would come when everything would be out in the open, and Raven could finally throw the rose petals she had always wanted to throw when her boys went off to spend some quality time in their suite. Until then, she’d pretend to everyone else that they slept in separate rooms and that Erik totally did not go off to join Charles in bed after everyone had gone to sleep. What losers. What hopelessly in love, ridiculously romantic losers. 

“Brandy?” Hank had turned up behind her, and was holding two glasses of the amber liquid. 

“God bless you and your innate knowledge of when I need alcohol.” Raven accepted the glass from Hank and they sat next to one another on the couch next to the fireplace. She sipped at her glass, and then shifted sideways to put her feet in Hank’s lap and her back up against the arm of the lounge. 

“Those kids are always spouting off Darwin fact after Darwin fact to me in our genetics classes,” Hank told her. Raven grinned. 

“What can I say, I can’t help but pass along all the knowledge of my favorite scientist to these young, impressionable minds.” She pushed her hair behind her shoulder. It was blonde today, and her skin was pale and freckled. The same way she was when she had met Hank. 

“Your favorite scientist?” Hank looked affronted. 

“Yes. You’re my second favorite, remember? We’ve been over this.” Raven swirled around her brandy and took another sip. Hank harumphed. 

“I’m insulted. You’re only my third favorite shape-shifter, then.” 

“I’m the only shape shifter you know!” Raven protested. 

“False. Darwin is also a shape-shifter.” 

“That hardly counts. He can’t really control what he wants to turn into, it’s an instinctual thing!” 

“He still changes his shape.” Hank was resolute, and Raven rolled her eyes. 

“Whatever. He can’t do this, can he?” And with that, a ripple ran over her body and she laughed at the brief expression of shock on Hank’s face as she turned into a body double of him. Hank eyed himself critically.

“God, I am so handsome,” he announced. Another ripple went down Raven’s body, and she was back to the blonde and freckled form that she favored. Hank put down his drink on the table next to the couch and took Raven’s from her hands. 

“Is there a reason you don’t stay in your natural form all the time?” he asked, taking her hands and running a thumb over her knuckles. “I mean this one is nice and everything, but it just seems like it must be a big energy suck for you to constantly have to present yourself like this. So. I was just wondering.” 

“Please, Hank, you wouldn’t be nearly as thrilled to be around me all the time if I was alien-Raven instead of hot-blonde-Raven.” Raven knew her tone had gotten a bit harder than it needed to be, but this was one of her least favorite topics of conversation. 

“Come on, don’t shut down on me,” Hank looked into her currently brown eyes. Raven knew Hank well enough to know that he meant her no ill will, but she was in such a good mood from the brandy and didn’t want to ruin it.

“Don’t shut down on me,” Hank said again. “I want you to feel comfortable with me. What can I do to make you feel comfortable?” He twirled a finger in one of her blonde waves. 

Raven considered the honesty in Hank’s voice and in his dark brown eyes. He was good. Really, truly,good. He had been kind to her in the course of their relationship, and was routinely trustworthy with her secrets and with the secrets of people she knew. She sighed and another ripple went over her body as she returned to her blue skinned, red hair form. 

“Happy?” she asked, looking at Hank out of yellowed eyes. He grinned, and traced the patterns on her skin. 

“I love this you,” he said quietly, reverently. “Your skin is a mosaic, it’s so intricate and carefully formed.” He looked up at her. “You’re a work of art, Raven.” Raven wasn’t entirely sure she believed him at the moment, but she leaned over and kissed him anyways, knocking his glasses slightly askew. 

He smiled into the embrace and kissed her back with an enthusiasm that made her feel loved and _wanted_ , something she was not often aware that she needed until Hank gave it to her. 

And Hank was nothing if not a giver. The first time they had met was after Raven had broken her ankle clean through and was hobbling onto the Metro with a boot and crutches. Hank had immediately leapt up from his seat and given it to her, despite her protests that she could stand and that she was just fine. And as he was prone to do, Hank had seen right through her bullshit and had insisted that she sit. 

She was grateful for it. She later noticed that he was reading a biography of Charles Darwin that she had been dying to get her hands on. So they struck up a conversation about it, and before Raven knew what was going on, she had invited Hank to come have a drink with her before she turned in for the night. 

But that hadn’t gone according to plan either, because they stayed talking at the bar a few blocks from her apartment in midtown Manhattan until the place kicked them out. At which point they took their conversation to a 24 hour McDonald’s and Raven fell asleep in a lull and Hank had carried her home. Their initial meeting-turned-first-date was an excellent preamble for the rest of their relationship. Hank was constantly surprising her, and she loved that about him. 

“Raven,” Hank’s voice was husky and it snapped her out of her reverie. It occurred to her that his shirt was off and she was performing a detailed exploration of his chest area with her tongue and he was a bit breathless above her. 

“Raven,” Hank said again. “We should probably take this upstairs.” 

“That didn’t stop you in the courtyard the other day,” she retorted, but obliged his request and started buttoning his shirt back up. Hank winced at the memory. 

“I was still finding grass from that three days later.” 

“Me too,” Raven told him. “Totally worth it.” 

“I don’t know if I’m with you on that one.” Hank was grinning at her and tracing along her dark red hairline with his pointer finger. 

“Killjoy,” complained Raven, but she was smiling too. 

Hank collected their empty brandy glasses and took them to the kitchen. Raven took a moment to stretch but then followed him to the sink. 

“Do you ever wonder if we would have met if you hadn’t broken your ankle?” Hank wasn’t making eye contact with her, he was washing out the brandy glasses and setting them on the drying rack. 

“What makes you ask that?” Raven folded her arms and leaned up against the counter. She still hadn’t transformed out of her natural blue-skinned appearance and was feeling surprisingly comfortable in it. 

“I was just thinking about us, and wondering if we’d still be together if you hadn’t been a complete idiot and broken your ankle skydiving.” Hank ducked to avoid the rag Raven chucked at his head. 

“You’re a little shit. But I dunno, we would have eventually. Something else would have happened and we would have found each other.” 

“You’re a romantic.” Hank edged towards her, his eyes taking on that sparkle that they did when he was about to say something cheesy. “I knew I would get it out of you eventually.” 

“Shut up, Hank.” Raven stuck out her arms for Hank to take her into his embrace. 

“You are,” he continued. “You’re so romantic. ‘We would have eventually’. It’s almost like you believe in destiny.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Raven amended. “I believe in you, if I believe in anything. I believe in us.” 

“I do too,” Hank said quietly. Raven laid her head on Hank’s shoulder, and they stayed like that for several minutes. Whatever she had done to deserve Hank in her life, she prayed she’d keep doing it for the rest of it. 

“Want to go try to set up a tire swing out in the woods?” Hank broke the silence. Raven picked up her head and gave him a look. 

“And this is coming from where?” she asked, though she already loved the idea. Hank shrugged.

“Charles sent me off to buy some food, I had some money left over, so I went to the hardware store. Sue me.” Hank had a little mischievous smile playing at his lips. Raven detached herself from his arms and traced the outline of his half-smiling mouth. 

“You’re sneaky and I love it. Let’s do it.” 

They found their jackets and made sure no one else was downstairs before they headed off into the woods with the rope and the tire that Hank had picked up. Which was probably unnecessary, but Raven loved it. They found a huge maple tree just inside the main border of the forest, and Hank scaled the tree with ease. 

“Those big feet are so hot,” Raven called up after him. 

“Shut up!” Hank yelled back at her, but he was blushing. “Make yourself useful and throw me the rope.” She tossed the thick climbing rope up at him and he caught it deftly. 

“Be sure to double knot it or whatever,” Raven called. 

“I was an Eagle Scout, Raven, I know how to tie a knot,” Hank informed her. He tied the rope elaborately to the branch he was sitting on and dropped the rest of it down to Raven. She looped it inside the tire, and Hank leapt down from the branch and landed lightly on his feet. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” Hank took the rope from her and tied it rapidly around the tire in a similar way he had done with the rope on the tree branch. After a moment the tire was suspended a few feet in the air. “Well go on, get on it!” Hank motioned for Raven to get on the swing. She obliged, and he positioned himself behind her to push her. 

Raven couldn’t help giggling as she swung forward in a rush of wind and back again to Hank’s strong hands on her back. They continued like this for several minutes, Raven getting higher and higher until she saw something out in the woods that made her lean forward in the swing and stop herself short. There was something on the path ahead of them. 

“Who’s that,” she pointed at the figure ahead of them. Hank looked worried. 

“I don’t recognize them,” Hank said carefully. “Let’s go check it out.” 

They walked together towards the slow-moving figure on the road. Raven had a feeling in the pit of her stomach, one of those intuitions that usually turned out to be right.

“Oh, my god, are you alright?” Raven reached out to support the young girl, whose ankle was bent at an unnatural angle and the cuff of whose pants was stained with blood. The girl turned her dark eyes on Raven and didn’t say anything, she just collapsed into Raven’s arms. Raven stumbled a little bit under the suddenness of the girl’s collapsing, but righted herself easily and scooped the girl up into her arms. 

“She looks really pale,” Hank observed nervously. “We should probably take her to the hospital?” 

“What, and have her outed as a mutant?” Raven indicated the girl’s prehensile tail that was curled up against the small of her back. Understanding dawned on Hank’s face. 

“Right, right. Okay. Let’s get her back to the mansion, then. Are you alright to carry her?” 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good. She’s not that heavy.” Raven readjusted her grip. The girl didn’t stir. 

The walk back to the mansion was silent. Raven had Hank lead the way in order to keep an eye out for anybody else. She had a sneaking suspicion that the girl wasn’t alone, and that perhaps she had been cornered on her way up to the mansion. Shit. This area was supposed to be a safe space, and yet here they were, carrying an injured child back to the mansion. Raven looked down at her charge. The girl’s skin was tinted a light blue; a few shades lighter than her own natural color. Her hair was dark brown, nearly black, and her tail reminded Raven a bit of Kurt. Maybe she was also a teleporter. 

They arrived back at the mansion, and Raven laid the girl down on the couch in the living room. She put her ear to the girl’s chest and heard fairly normal breathing sounds. Raven wasn’t a doctor by any stretch, but she knew enough basic first aid to get by. 

“Raven? Raven, what’s going-” Charles walked into the room but stopped dead when he saw the blue-skinned girl on the couch. Something inside him seemed to lock into place, and he immediately knelt beside her and began examining her. 

“Charles, she needs to be seen by an actual doctor, like a medical one,” Raven told him. The man had a strong sense of protectiveness, but he was also not medically trained. Charles lifted a hand as if to tell her to quiet down. He lifted her blood-soaked pant leg and paused (probably to keep from recoiling, Raven would guess) before examining the wound on her ankle more fully. 

“These are some pretty bad cuts, and her ankle also looks broken,” Charles told them.

“I gathered as much,” Raven replied. “Is there anyone in this house who can treat her? Hank suggested taking her to the hospital, but I don’t like that idea because of her tail. It’s gonna be pretty obvious to them that she’s a mutant, and-” Raven checked the girl’s wrist, “she’s not registered yet. So that just seems like more problems than it’s worth.” Charles covered the girl’s ankle back up and sat on the floor, thinking. 

“Erik could set it,” he said after a few moments. “He was an EMT for several years before we met. He can fix up the wounds and set her ankle, and then we can put her up here at Westchester until she gets better. In the meantime, would the two of you find a free bed for her and get a first aid kit from downstairs? I’ll get Erik.” And with that, Charles left the room and went upstairs to get Erik. 

Raven picked the girl up again. 

“Any ideas where we can set her up?” She brushed a strand of the girl’s hair out of her eyes absently. The poor thing looked so young. Hank nodded and led them down to the basement where he pulled out a spare rollaway bed from a storage closet. He laid a quilt on top of it and Raven set the girl down, where she continued to sleep. 

“Poor thing,” Hank said. 

“I know.” Raven snaked an arm around Hank’s waist and they stood over her for several minutes, as if it would protect her from further harm. A very nearly parental gesture.


	18. Corsair comes to Westchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corsair visits Westchester to discuss with Charles and Erik what to do as mutant registration progresses. The injured mutant girl wakes up briefly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO so sorry for how lame and irregular I'm being. But we're nearing the end and the closer we get the more jumbled my chapters become, so they require more ironing out. But ya'll who are being supportive anyways and leaving kudos and comments are wonderful and I super appreciate it. 
> 
> (plus I also had surgery a few weeks ago and have been recovering from that so lol life what are you)

Corsair arrived on the Westchester doorstep at precisely 8 am the morning after Hank and Raven had come home with an injured, nameless mutant child. Charles barely slept from checking on the child all night long. And, as she was prone to do, Corsair noticed right away. 

“God, you look terrible,” she greeted him as soon as he opened the door. “What went down last night? I hope it was at least fun.” She kicked off her shoes and Charles trailed after her as she made her way into the kitchen. “I’ll make you some tea, at least.” She switched the stove on and put the teakettle on top of the burner. Charles sat at the kitchen table and motioned for her to come sit next to him.

“We got a bit of an unexpected visitor last night,” he informed her. Her expression became more serious. 

“Go on.” 

“A young girl. Mutant, blue skin and prehensile tail. Looks like a smaller version of our friend Kurt Wagner, but we have no confirmation on the nature of her abilities yet. Hank and Raven found her out in the woods, bleeding and unconscious and brought her to us.” Charles rattled off the facts, and noted a bit of hollowness in his voice. 

“You sound worried about the whole thing.” Corsair folded her arms.

“Can you blame me? Erik and I have already taken on a huge group of young people that we’re essentially parenting and now we’ve got a really young girl who must have parents or someone who’s worried about her. And furthermore, I have no idea where that injury came from, and she still hasn’t regained enough consciousness to tell us. So yeah, I’m a bit worried.” Charles ran a hand through his hair. 

“Well, she’s hardly going to be the first to come to you for help.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Charles, you can’t expect to come to the New York City rallies with your little posse of students and expect to go unnoticed. Other mutants are slowly starting to figure out what you and Erik are up to, and as things start to get more desperate, people are going to come to you.” 

“We’re not going to be able to provide for many more students than we have,” Charles protested. Corsair rolled her eyes. 

“Bullshit. You all have been building up a store of nonperishables for months now. Don’t tell me you don’t have food to spare.” 

“Okay, fine, we have some to spare. But it won’t last forever.” Charles didn’t bother asking how she knew that. 

“It doesn’t need to last forever. We’ll figure things out as we go, as a community. But in the meantime, you all need to step up and share what you’ve got with your mutant brothers and sisters.” Corsair’s voice was rising to that pitch she usually reserved for the most inspiring part of a rally. And Charles was starting to feel a bit inspired in spite of himself. 

“Corsair! I didn’t see you coming in.” Erik had entered the room, just as the kettle was starting to whistle. He removed it from the stove and pulled down three mugs from the mug tree to make tea for all three of them. “Good of you to put the kettle on.” He brought over the three mugs and sat next to Charles, laying a surreptitious hand on the small of his partner’s back so that Corsair wouldn’t notice. Charles softened a bit beneath Erik’s touch, and sipped at his tea. 

“Erik. Pleasure to get a chance to sit and chat with you at length,” Corsair accepted her tea from Erik and held out a hand for him to shake, which he took. 

“I assume you’ve heard about our new charge?” Erik asked her. 

“Yes, and I was just telling Charles here that she’s not going to be the only one as time goes on.” 

“Understandable, but we can’t provide for everyone here.” 

“But don’t you feel we’ve got a bit of a responsibility to?” Charles said. 

“We have responsibilities to the students we have here now. We don’t have a responsibility to care for every mutant in New York.” Erik was curt. Corsair looked disgruntled. 

“You’ve got a huge estate here,” she pointed out. 

“A huge estate that is full to the brim right now and just won’t be able to accommodate more people beyond the ones we have already,” Erik countered. 

“It’s better than what the mutants in the Big Apple already have.” 

“They have one another. They have a much bigger mutant community than we have here, surely there must be more resources for them in the city than in Westchester.” Erik was firm, and wouldn’t break eye contact with Corsair. She didn’t reply for several moments. 

“Right. Well. I’m going to go. I’ll connect up with other mutants in the big city to see who else has been stockpiling food and perhaps we can work out some kind of bartering system. In the meantime, I hope you two can find it in your hearts to spread the wealth a little.” She gulped down the rest of her tea and set her glass in the sink. 

“Corsair, wait,” Charles turned in his chair to face her, but she had already walked out the door in a huff. 

“Charming, that one,” Erik said drily and sipped at his tea. “Dunno how she downed that tea so fast, mine is still quite hot.” 

“She had a point, Erik. Ever heard of the whole ‘to whom much is given, much is expected’ thing?”

“Of course I have. But I’ve also heard ‘haste makes waste’, and if we rush into this choice to house as many mutants as possible, we’re just going to end up with a lot of starving mutants instead of a few that are well-fed and well-trained.” 

“I feel such a huge obligation to the rest of them” Charles held his tea up to his mouth, but then thought better of it and put it back down. “I just need about eight more Westchesters and then maybe I’d have a chance at providing for all the mutants that are going to end up needing it.” 

Now that Corsair was gone and the rest of the mutants appeared to still be asleep, Erik rubbed Charles’ back, trailing his fingers up and down Charles’s spine in an attempt to calm him. 

“You have an enormous heart, Charles, and I’ve always loved that about you.” 

Charles leaned into Erik’s touch and smiled at the words of encouragement. 

“But you’re also prone to throwing yourself in front of a bus so that other people can walk across your dead body to safety.” 

“I am not!” Charles said indignantly. 

“You’re also incurably stubborn.” Erik added. 

“Well we’ve got to do something,” Charles said. “Maybe that food bartering system Corsair mentioned. I don’t know. There has to be some way to handle things responsibly.” 

“We are handling things responsibly.” Erik was firm. “We are. We’ll expand as we find more people to expand to, but in the meantime, we have plenty of people to care for all on our own. Alright?” 

“Alright.” Charles moved his chair closer to Erik so he could put a head on his shoulder. Erik did a quick scan around the room to see if anyone was coming. When he was sure that no one was, he laid his head on top of Charles’, and they stayed like that for awhile. Charles craved these little moments of chaste physical affection. Sex with Erik was generally rich and gorgeous, but it was in moments like these where Charles felt like he was truly safe and where he felt the closest to Erik. 

Charles wondered sometimes if it ought to bother him more that he and Erik were frequently at odds over how to deal with the various political issues that arose having to do with mutants. The man often seemed so diametrically opposed to everything Charles stood for-he had no qualms about violence against anyone who wanted to hurt mutants or had hurt mutants in the past, and he never seemed to think that making peace with non-mutants was important. Or that mutants and non-mutants could ever exist in harmony. 

It wasn’t as if Charles was exactly optimistic on that front as of late. He would have loved nothing more than to see mutants and humans working alongside one another as elected representatives in government, deciding what courses of action would be best for both of their kind. 

But that seemed like more of a pipe dream than anything else lately. Every day there was a new story about someone in association with the Mutant Registration Act--whether it was a state representative or one of their staffers or family of their staffers was taken captive by the Brotherhood group. 

Even if they could get the Brotherhood to stop kidnapping all these people, there was no guarantee that the ones who were already kidnapped would be in good health, or that they would even be alive. Oh, god, Charles shuddered at the thought of any of them being dead. There would be no way to repair human-mutant relations after that. He sighed. 

“I would ask what’s on your mind, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same thing that’s on mine.” Erik’s voice was low, and Charles’ scalp tingled a little as Erik spoke right near his ear. 

“Well, I figured there was a reason I keep you around,” Charles lifted his head up and aimed to kiss Erik on the cheek but ended up on his jaw. “Suppose we should go and check on the mystery girl?” 

“Yeah, might as well do,” Erik agreed. 

They made their way downstairs together as softly as possible to avoid waking her, but she was already alert once they got to the foot of her bed. Her eyes were dark brown with bright flecks of gold in them, a striking combination. 

“Are you alright, then,” Erik asked her. She wouldn’t make eye contact with either of them, but still stared straight ahead. 

“The Brotherhood knows,” she intoned, her mouth moving mechanically. Charles furrowed his brow. 

“What do you mean, the Brotherhood knows? The Brotherhood knows what?” Charles moved from the foot of the bed to the side of it so as to make better eye contact. “What does the Brotherhood know?” The girl wouldn’t answer. She laid back into her bed and put her head back on the pillow delicately. Her eyes fluttered shut, and the regular (noisy) breathing that soon filled the room told Charles and Erik she had gone back to sleep. 

“God, that’s frustrating.” Erik was studying the steady rise and fall of her chest. 

“The brotherhood can’t know about the estate. I’m sure of that. They must know something else.” Charles was pacing back and forth, and his voice was rising steadily in pitch as it would often do when he was nervous. 

“You can’t be sure that they don’t know about the estate.” 

“I can’t be 100% sure of anything, Erik, that’s just the way that the world is. But I can be sure about some things, and I’m pretty damn sure about this. But what else could they know that would spook her like that?” 

“Maybe they were holding her captive?” Erik suggested. “Or maybe she defected?” 

“Reasonable. Plausible, even. But there’s no way for us to tell what the Brotherhood is up to or what they’re thinking. I mean we know as much as the news media, for god’s sake. We should have a faster intelligence stream than that if we want any hope of these guys losing power and mutants and humans restoring reasonably peaceful relationships.” Charles’ hair was gaining more and more volume as he pushed it back from its combed position and up from his head. 

“Well, we have got access to two teleporters,” Erik pointed out. “They could easily go on reconnaissance missions. Just go off of where the last place a Brotherhood mutant was spotted. Take Raven with them so she can do the asking around and not compromise herself.” 

“It’s a good plan, Erik, but it’s dangerous.” 

“Obviously it’s dangerous. There’s no way for it not to be. These mutants that are doing the kidnapping don’t care nearly as much about moral rightness as you do. They don’t care about the safety of the people they’re kidnapping, and they sure as hell don’t care about at least trying to maintain a semblance of peace between mutants and non-mutants. If you’d open your eyes just a little, you’d see they’re trying to set us on the path to war.” Erik’s voice had risen near to a shout, but the injured girl had still not woken up. 

“And thereby get themselves total mutant supremacy,” Charles said dully. “I didn’t see it coming in this particular way, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” 

“I don’t want those idiots to be controlling the government. I’m prepared to stop them in their tracks. And that means using the skills and people power we have available to us. Kurt and Azazel would probably work well together, and you know Raven is the best at what she does. They would be fine.” 

“You’re right,” Charles conceded. “You’re right. So how do we tell them? When do we tell them?” 

“In person and right now,” Erik said decisively. “But I’ll do it. You’re worn out and you need to sleep, so go up to our room and do that right now.” He stuck out his hand for Charles to take and they walked back up the stairs to the main floor again. Erik sent Charles upstairs to get some sleep, sent Kurt to retrieve Azazel, and found Raven in the lab with Hank looking at samples of their own DNA. 

The three of them seemed enthusiastic about the job they were given; Raven was antsy to try out more of her forms and practiced by turning into each person in the living room as Erik was talking to them, much to his irritation. 

“When do you want us sent out?” Kurt asked. 

“Tomorrow,” Erik answered. “Find all the supplies you need tonight-food, money, whatever, and then head out to Harlem tomorrow. That’s the last rally that a Brotherhood member was seen at, so people around there might know some things. Call back here every night and let us know what you find, alright?” They nodded their agreement. 

The group left the living room one by one, and Erik held Raven back before she could leave altogether. 

“Raven, do be careful,” he said. “Don’t let the boys leave you behind if things get dicey.” 

“Please, Erik, have a little more faith in them. They won’t leave me behind.” Raven gave him one of her devil-may-care smiles-a smile Erik had begun to get to know very well after living with her for awhile, but it was different when that smile was in relation to the possibility of her being in actual danger. He was never quite sure how to verbalize his feelings towards other people (besides Charles), but he felt a level of protectiveness over Raven that wasn’t quite paternal but more….well, brotherly. She felt like a little sister.

“I don’t need to be protected, Erik.” Raven’s voice was kind. “You’re a good man, and you are very good to my brother, but you are not responsible for me.” 

“Doesn’t mean I’m not concerned for your safety.” 

“And I appreciate that. But what’s more important than you being concerned for my safety is you having faith in my ability to handle what is going to end up being a really tricky situation. We’re only a few days into Registration now, but those few days are going to turn into a few weeks real quick. So have a little faith, and have our backs here at home base. We’ll figure things out.” And with that, a ripple ran over her skin and she became a beefy, over-muscled thug in a tank-top with sleeve tattoos. “I’m good at persuasion. Always have been.” 

“Well, if I’m usually afraid you’ll kick my ass, now I’m afraid you’ll break it in half altogether.” Erik took a tiny step back from Raven’s new form. She laughed and changed back to her favorite blonde figure. 

“See, we can pull this off. Time to let the kiddies fly the coop, Erik.” She patted him on the shoulder and left the living room to go pack.


	19. Life under Registration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The longer the Registration Act is in place, the more mutants are out of a job and have no way to get something to eat. Westchester sets up a bartering system to provide for as many mutants as they can, and everyone pitches in. It's a new life, to be sure, but it falls into somewhat of a routine like everything else.
> 
> However, the Brotherhood group is continuing its kidnappings and is threatening larger-scale action on somewhere else in New York, somewhere the mutants are desperately trying to figure out before the Brotherhood's next strike. 
> 
> Multiple POV in order to capture how things are going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! 2 chapters in a day! As always, thanks for reading and being lovely. Leave a comment if you feel so inclined and stay tuned bc things are about to get intense!

Erik gave Charles a few hours to sleep before going up to their room. When he made his way up, Charles was curled into a ball on his side of the bed with a pillow tucked between his bare legs. Erik entered the room and shut the door quietly behind him and just watched Charles sleep for a few moments. 

He worked so hard. He cared so much and so deeply and Erik often wasn’t sure what to do with that level of love and emotion in one person. It pulled things out of him that he never expected. Taking care of all of these mutant students, for one thing. Erik’s childhood had been so fraught that he never even considered the possibility of putting himself in a parental role until he met Charles. 

But here they were. He walked over to the bed and curled himself around Charles as gently as he could without waking his better half. Charles stirred and turned his head around as best he could, blindly searching for Erik’s lips. He found them, and Erik and Charles shared a few languid kisses before Charles’s eyes opened completely. 

“Hey.” Erik drew back from Charles briefly.

“Hey.” Charles’s voice was scratchy with sleepiness, and he turned onto his other side so he was facing Erik. He fingered the collar of Erik’s shirt for a moment before pulling him in again. The kisses had a bittersweet quality to them now, like an end was coming, and it made the pit of Erik’s stomach twist. 

“Charles.” He pulled away again. “What’s the matter?” He brushed a stray tear from his partner’s cheek. 

“The usual,” Charles said before kissing Erik again. 

“No, you have to tell me,” Erik said, pulling away from Charles with more force this time. “We’re partners. That’s how this works, remember?” Charles stopped and bit his lip. 

“It’s just-the sky feels a bit like it’s about to fall.” 

“It won’t. We’ll handle it. We always have.” 

“But things can’t be the same after this. Not after the Registration Act.” Charles’s eyes met Erik’s, and there was an expression dangerously close to fear that aroused a protective instinct in Erik. He held Charles’s gaze for a moment and understood his fear. 

Then they were kissing again, but the bittersweetness was replaced with a strength, a near-harshness as Erik claimed Charles’s mouth for his own, interspersing kisses with growled assurances. 

“You have always made me better.” Erik moved from Charles’s now swollen lips to his neck, and reached the juncture between his neck and his shoulders. The smaller man shuddered beneath him. Erik paused from Charles’s neck to unbutton his shirt, the only thing he was wearing besides his boxers. He removed the shirt and the boxers one after the other, and began a purposeful journey down Charles’s torso, listening to the brunette’s breaths grow shorter and sharper the further down he got. 

“No one will do anything to us if I have anything to say about it,” Erik told Charles before taking him into his mouth and bringing Charles right to the knife edge before the brunette tangled his fingers in Erik’s hair and made him stop. 

“Erik, I-” Charles was breathless and trying to form a coherent statement. Erik waited patiently. “Want you. Inside me. Before I--” and he couldn’t finish the sentence. Erik didn’t need asking twice, and reached for a jar of vaseline before getting to the business of preparing Charles. 

When he finally entered his brunette counterpart, the connection was electricity and warmth and Erik found himself overwhelmingly aware of the intimacy of the act they were performing. They moved together, completely in sync, sharing their very heartbeat. The spark of electricity grew into a flame that Erik fanned until he and Charles were consumed together, stifling desperate noises into one another’s necks, coming one right after the other and collapsing side-by-side to recover. 

They intertwined their fingers for a few moments before Erik rose from the bed to get them each a warm washcloth. Once things had been tidied up a bit, Erik drew Charles into his arms on top of the covers, the brunette’s head on the blonde’s chest. They listened to one another’s steady breath, each clinging to the other’s presence like a lifeline until they dozed off that way. 

________

A week went by. Raven, Azazel, and Kurt did as they were told and called every night to tell Charles, Erik, and the rest of the house (as Charles and Erik deemed appropriate) what they had found. It was slow going at first, dead-end lead after dead-end lead until Raven found what she thought might be a more solid lead at the end of the first week. She told them a vivid story of her interrogation of the possible lead, his unwillingness to crack, and how she had eventually gotten him by turning into his worst nightmare-a memory of an old circus clown. 

“It was awesome,” she crowed over the phone. “Guy sang like a canary.” 

Charles reminded Raven very patiently that she was not, in fact, on an episode of Law and Order, and that her work had real consequences. She scoffed at this but eventually stuck to the essential information when reporting what they had found. 

“So we’re on our way to Boston, the guy gave us an address of a seedy little bar that he’s supposed to be hiding out in. “ Raven’s voice was breaking up a little. 

“It seems like maybe it was a little too easy to get this information, Raven,” Charles tried to keep his voice as light as possible so as not to spook the other students that were nearby.

“I’m not stupid. I know that. But we may as well check it out anyways, the guy seemed terrified and there’s probably some kind of trail there. Besides, I can turn into him now that I know what he looks like, and that will probably do a lot to help digging things up.” 

“Remind me to not underestimate you, darling.” 

“I always do and then you still do. Every time.” 

“Fair enough. I’ll learn eventually, Raven, I promise.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll just keep proving you wrong all the time. Bye, Charles. Love ya.” 

“Love you too, little sister.” 

He hung up the phone. 

“She seems like she’s got things in order,” Erik remarked. 

“She usually does,” Charles opened the refrigerator to look absently for food. 

“You’re not hungry,” Erik told him. “Let’s go upstairs and take your mind off things.” His voice was hot in Charles’ ear and Charles whipped around to quiet him before any of the other mutants noticed. But he was eventually convinced and followed Erik upstairs surreptitiously. _______ Angel was getting good at this whole breathing fire thing. She and Sean were in a practice session with Charles, and she successfully set a sapling tree on fire in her third try. 

“You can just call me dragon because I breathe fiyaaaa!” Angel turned from the flaming tree and blew smoke from a gun she formed with her fingers. 

“You don’t breathe fire, Angel, you emit concentrated energy bursts that are easily ignited when they encounter flammable objects,” Charles explained patiently. 

“That doesn’t make any sense, Charles, and you’re just trying to take me down a peg because you don’t like the idea that I could very easily saunter over to some Brotherhood guy’s house and burn it to the ground.” Angel cocked a hip to the side and invited a retort from Charles. 

“I am not unaware of the pun here, but we mustn’t fight fire with fire. Only leaves the whole world burnt.” Charles patted Angel on the shoulder and led the way back to the mansion. Angel rolled her eyes and fell into step with Sean behind Charles. 

“He’s such a cheeseball sometimes,” she leaned over to talk right into Sean’s ear. He twitched a little from the closeness of her voice, and she smirked. 

“A cheeseball who’s got our best interests at heart,” he reminded her. 

“And a cheeseball who can hear all of this!” Charles called over his shoulder. Angel made a face at Charles’ back and looped her arm onto Sean’s to slow them down and allow Charles to gain a bit of distance from them on their way back to the mansion. 

“Don’t you ever just want to whip out your powers on some douchebag to make him pay for the kidnappings? I mean they’ve progressed to kidnapping kids lately, and that’s just wrong.” Angel left her arm connected to Sean’s. It was kind of nice that way. Not that she’d tell him that. 

“The Brotherhood group is full of less than savory people, to be sure,” Sean agreed. “I think each of them could use a swift kick in the nuts, but I just don’t know that I am okay with violent reprisal.”

“Please,” scoffed Angel. “If they took your little brother or sister or something I’m sure you’d be okay with ‘violent reprisal’ then.” She made exaggerated air quotes. Sean was silent. Angel’s heart dropped into her stomach and she wondered if she had hit a nerve. Shit. 

They walked along the path back to the mansion from the woods, neither of them saying a word. Angel found her mind uncharacteristically full and racing through everything she knew about Sean to figure out if she had said something hurtful. But she was drawing blanks. 

“Do-do you have a brother or sister? Or both?” Angel kept her voice low and flat, it usually worked best in confrontation-y situations to keep it that way. 

“Both,” Sean answered. “But they’re both dead.” Shit. Angel knew it was something, but that was especially rude, even by her standards. 

“And-and how did they die?” She wondered if she was perhaps pressing a little too far with that question, but she had to know. 

“There were kids at school who didn’t like what they could do, and they didn’t really realize that maybe they ought to keep their abilities under wraps until it was too late and they were being beat up behind the school. Things escalated, they both suffered some pretty severe internal damage, and they ended up dying. Stupidest thing. But it happened, and the kids’ parents moved out of the state to avoid any repercussions. So I haven’t seen them since.” Sean wouldn’t look at Angel, but he hadn’t moved his arm out of her grip either. 

Angel felt something prickling at the corner of her eye, and wiped at it with the back of her hand. 

“Are you crying?” Sean was looking at her as they walked and she turned away as much as she could. 

“No, don’t worry about it,” Angel said hastily. 

“It happened a long time ago, Angel, I mean it sucks, but it was a long time ago. I don’t think I’ll ever find those guys anyways. I just want little mutant kids to make friends with not mutant kids and not get hurt.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like that big a goal to me, but lately it’s seemed more than a little unattainable.” 

“God, since when did you get so profound?” Angel turned back towards Sean and folded her arms. She wanted to slip hers back through his but he didn’t need to be slowed down now. 

“When did you start caring about things I had to say?” 

“Ouch. You’re right.” Angel hooked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Look, that comment was insensitive. I didn’t realize your family history, and I’d hate to alienate you because of the stupid shit that comes out of my mouth.” 

“Is that so? So are we friends now?” 

“Shut up, I’m trying to apologize!” 

“And I’m trying to milk it for all it’s worth, can you blame me?”  
Angel punched Sean lightly on the shoulder and he recoiled, laughing. 

“So are we good, or what?” Angel asked. 

“We’re good,” Sean confirmed. They shared a look for a moment, and then Angel decided things would be better handled if they continued back towards the mansion.  
_____  
Charles checked on the blue mutant girl every day following her arrival to be sure to catch her when she woke. It took a solid week of brief moments of consciousness before he was able to get more than five minutes out of her. As the week drew to a close, Charles went down to the basement to check on the girl again. She was sitting up in her bed when he got to the basement, and staring straight ahead.

“Are you awake now, or is this another false alarm?” Charles approached the bed carefully, and stood at the foot of it. He still wasn’t entirely sure of the full extent of her powers, and hoped none of them involved close-range bodily maiming. 

“I’m awake,” her voice was scratchy and warm, a bit like the fireplace right before it died down completely. Not unpleasant. 

“Well, that’s good to hear. Do you suppose you might want to tell me your name?” 

“It’s Freya.” 

“You’re very awake today, Freya. How are you feeling?” 

“Hungry.” 

“Well, I would expect so. You’ve done little but sleep over the week you’ve been here. We’ve tried to feed you in the times you were awake, but we really couldn’t do much except get a little water in you. I’ll make you some chicken noodle soup.” Charles smiled at her in what he hoped was a paternal way. She was still unnerving him just a little with her brief, deadpan answers to everything. He turned to walk up the stairs, and heard her get off the bed behind him. 

“Want to come and make the soup with me, then?” he asked. He felt a small, cold hand slip into his own, and Freya was next to him. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he concluded, and they walked up the stairs together. 

Freya was a surprisingly normal once they started cooking. Charles put her in charge of boiling the water for the noodles and then cooking the noodles themselves, a task that she took to with ease and even a bit of a whistle while she waited for the water to boil. 

“Do you like movies, Freya?” Charles was cutting up some bits of chicken Hank had grilled the previous night. 

“Haven’t seen any.” 

“None?” 

“None.” Freya poured a sizable amount of penne noodles into the boiling water. 

“Well, that’s certainly going to have to change. I don’t suppose you know about 101 Dalmatians, do you?” Charles placed the cut chicken into a small bowl to add to the soup later. Freya shook her head. “It’s a delightful movie, and I think we should watch it together. What do you think?” Charles looked into her eyes that were slowly gaining a bit of brightness to them the longer she was awake. 

“Okay,” she said, her voice small. 

They finished making the chicken noodle soup and took it to the TV room. Charles dug around in the cabinet for the proper VHS, and popped it into the player. Freya was curled up on the couch, sipping at her soup and looking nervous. Poor child. Charles wanted her to feel safe at Westchester, but he also wanted to know where she had been before she came to the mansion. But she was young. She needed a night to not care about any of the weightier things in the world and to just care about kid things. That wasn’t too much to give her. 

He sat at the other end of the couch, not because he wanted to distance himself from her, but because her body language was telling him pretty strongly that she needed the space. The film progressed, and Charles was pleased when Freya cracked a smile at the antics of the puppies. Her mood changed when Cruella DeVille made her first appearance. Freya put her empty bowl of chicken noodle soup on the table in front of her and edged closer to Charles as the film went on and as Cruella’s appearances continued. 

Once Cruella ended up kidnapping the puppies altogether, Freya curled up against Charles. He put a hesitant arm around her, and they stayed like that for the rest of the film. She fell asleep just before it ended, but Charles was too invested in the storyline to leave it off there. So he watched everything resolve and listened to Freya’s breathing get more and more regular, and once the dalmatians had all been reunited, he lifted Freya gently off the couch and took her back down to her bed.  
_______  
Alex was starting to get a bit overwhelmed with the steadily increasing volume of mutants from the big city coming to Westchester to bargain with him for food from their stores. The usual deal was that they would receive a week’s worth of food for completing some task around the house-fixing a car, cutting down brush, whatever it was that needed doing, they would get done in exchange for food. And that was good, it made sense to Alex. But the numbers were slowly increasing and he was starting to wonder if he could handle this all by himself. 

None of them stayed for longer than a few hours, and Alex did his best to make sure that they all walked away with a week’s worth of food. He developed a list in between his dealings with mutants of things that needed to be done at Westchester-a greenhouse needed to be built, basic vegetables and fruits planted there, the basement refurbished-the estate was so big that there was always something that needed to be done. And the mutant visitors seemed to be happy to do it, so it would appear that the bartering system was working well. 

“Things seem to be going smoothly out here.” Darwin came padding out to the back door of the estate where the majority of the food issues were handled. 

“Yeah, it’s going pretty well, surprisingly,” Alex acknowledged. 

“Surprisingly? What do you mean by that?” Darwin looked like he had just woken up from a nap or something, and his voice was a bit deeper and more chocolatey than usual. 

“Well, I just-I wasn’t so sure that I would be good at this is all.”

“Why not? You’re great with numbers and you’re even better at juggling like twelve different details at a time!” Darwin folded his arms and raised his eyebrows at Alex. The sandy-haired boy shuffled his feet and looked down. 

“Thanks,” was all he managed to say. 

“Hey,” Darwin began, “do you want to maybe go for a walk or something?” 

“A walk?” 

“Yeah, just to chat, I guess? Getting bored around the mansion.” 

“I-uh, sure. Sure, that’s, um, that’s good.” Alex cursed internally. He wasn’t so sure why he was nervous around Darwin all of the sudden, but here he was. The remaining mutants had left with their bags of food, and the two of them were alone in the back area. 

“We may as well go now,” Darwin prompted. He set off down the road that led into the main field and Alex followed him, trying to think of a snarky comment but coming up dry.  
_____  
It was the end of a long day. The younger students had all gone to bed and the living room area just held Charles and Erik now. Erik sat in front of the fireplace, staring into it and trying to push out of his mind that the Brotherhood group was threatening to make a larger attack on something that New York would “sorely miss”, and none of them could figure out what they meant. 

Erik had wanted to go charging into their warehouse where Raven swore up and down they held meetings and force them to talk right then and there, but Charles had convinced him that this might not be the best course of action. Charles insisted they needed more solid information before acting. Erik conceded he was right. So his partner was in the kitchen, fixing them drinks. The brunette returned after a bit with a glass each of whiskey for him and Erik. 

Erik accepted the drink, and Charles sat next to him in the two chairs that were in front of the fireplace. 

“What were you like, as a teenager?” Erik asked abruptly. Charles chuckled and took a sip of his whiskey. He didn’t answer for awhile. 

Erik swirled the glass of whiskey and took another sip. It was like fire moving down his throat. Disgusting, really, but it helped the flow of conversation. He set the glass down with a dull thunk and stared into the crackling fireplace. He could feel Charles’ eyes boring into him from the chair next to him and felt he ought to avoid eye contact for the time being. 

Charles adjusted his chair so it was facing Erik’s directly. He pulled Erik’s legs into his lap, tugged off his socks, and began massaging his feet. The sigh of satisfaction that escaped Erik gave Charles a hearty chuckle. 

“You need a regular massage, old friend,” Charles remarked, digging his thumbs into the pads of Erik’s left foot. 

“Are you volunteering?” Erik mumbled, taking another sip of whiskey. Charles laughed again. They sat in silence for a few moments. Erik felt himself sinking into a light haze. Whether it was brought on by the whiskey or by Charles’ excellent massage techniques seemed irrelevant, all he knew was that he was slowly feeling like perhaps he might fall asleep in this chair. 

“To answer your question,” Charles began, “my teenage years were no picnic. I suppose no one’s adolescence is really easy.” He followed Erik’s gaze into the fireplace and watched a few sparks travel up the chimney. “Father died when I was young, mother was a drunk, married a stepfather who beat me, so I got out as fast as I could and buried myself in academics. Best escape I could manage, anyways.” Erik made a light scoffing noise in the back of his throat. 

“Some escape, mister I’m-a-brilliant-geneticist-and-everyone-at-Cambridge-hangs-on-to-my-every-word.” Erik’s voice turned sing-song and teasing. Charles dug his thumbnail into Erik’s foot in retaliation.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Erik yelped, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, no academics discussion. We both know you’re brilliant. When did you first-” Erik waved his hand in the direction of Charles’ head. “You know, when did you-” Erik tapped his temple in an imitation of Charles reading someone’s mind. Charles raised an eyebrow. He leaned forward and took the whiskey from the sidetable next to Erik, who whimpered as it was removed. 

“I discovered my power when I was thirteen. I thought my mum was on the phone with my stepfather telling him how much she’d like to be rid of me and how much of a burden I was to her. Turned out she was alone in the living room, just thinking it.” Charles’ brow furrowed involuntarily. Erik slid his legs off of Charles’ lap, leaned forward, and smoothed out the lines on Charles’ forehead with his thumb. The shorter man’s face relaxed, and Erik kissed his forehead, satisfied to have alleviated at least a moment’s worth of suffering. Charles took Erik’s feet in his lap again and resumed massaging them. 

“I know you discovered your power when your mother was taken away-” Charles paused at the sudden flash of anguish across Erik’s face. He pressed forward, gingerly. “But how-how did you escape the camp?” Something dark and murderous flashed across Erik’s eyes. “If you-er-don’t mind my asking?” Charles finished, kneading the arch of Erik’s right foot in an attempt to relax him. Erik inhaled sharply. 

“Shaw.” He spat, his right hand clenching into a fist. “Or Schmidt, as he was known in those days.” Erik bit the inside of his lip and watched the fire. A particularly large spark erupted from the logs, rose rapidly, and then fell into nothingness. “Shaw saw me bend the gate when they took my mother away. Wanted to see how much I could do. Killed my mother in front of me when I couldn’t lift a damn coin from his desk.” A tear was trailing its way down Charles’ stricken face, but Erik wasn’t paying attention. 

“He kept me for two years in some accursed lab-jail-I don’t know what it was. Tried to mold my powers to suit his purposes. Tortured me to make me do what he wanted. But he got cocky. I got ahead of him and escaped. I should have killed him when I had the chance.” Erik spoke the last sentence with a surety that sent a chill down Charles’ spine. 

“From there I was on my own. I lived on the streets, mostly, taking shelter in car parks where I could, or in cottages where a doddering old couple had left the door unlocked. Never hurt anyone. Just survived. Knew I had to kill Shaw at some point, so I planned.” Erik’s voice took on a dull, dispassionate tone as he continued his account. Charles tried to ignore the murderous intent as he asked his next question. 

“Surely-surely you had some family to go to?” He ventured. Erik gave a hollow laugh. 

“All dead. And even if they weren’t, it’s hardly as if they would want me once they knew me.” He waved his hand in a dismissive manner, his eyes vacant and distant. They sat in silence, the fire burning down to its last embers. Charles didn’t know what to say, so he continued his steady rhythm of massaging Erik’s feet as he let the story sink in. 

He blinked several times, releasing several more tears he hadn’t intended to let go. This time Erik did notice, and he immediately sat up in his chair and put his legs on the ground. He slid and knelt in front of Charles. Holding his face in his hands, he gently wiped each tear from his partner’s cheeks with his thumbs. Charles gave a small smile at the tenderness of the gesture. 

“Erik, I don’t mean to detract-” Charles began, but his voice broke and he swallowed hard, unable to continue. “I just wish you knew how much you don’t deserve the life you’ve been given-” Charles managed to choke out, and then swallowed again. Erik brushed Charles’ temples and searched his eyes. 

“You are so well-loved. And by no one more than me.” Charles surprised himself with the stability of his voice as he spoke the phrase. Erik’s grey-green eyes softened and he pulled Charles out of his chair, onto his knees, and into a hug. Charles held him desperately, as if the strength of his embrace would convince him that his search for revenge was in vain and that the acceptance he so desperately craved was right here. 

Erik broke the embrace after a few minutes and gripped Charles by the shoulders. He stared directly into those piercing blue eyes and plucked up the courage to say what he’d been meaning to.

“You are compassionate beyond belief, and you are the best man I know.” And then Erik couldn’t help himself, and he kissed Charles with everything else he wanted to say and couldn’t verbalize. The shorter man smelled like the English Breakfast tea he loved so much and tasted like home. They parted after a few moments. Erik brushed a stray lock of hair out of Charles’ eyes. He took the shorter man’s hand and they both rose to their feet, and Erik led him over to the couch. 

Erik sat with his legs spread slightly and patted the space in between for Charles to sit. He obliged. Erik wrapped his arms around Charles’ shoulders, and Charles sunk into the embrace. 

They watched the fire die down completely, Erik with his Charles and Charles with his Erik.


	20. Dusk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azazel brings the news to Westchester that Corsair is missing. 
> 
> Content warning for this chapter: Some graphic descriptions of dead bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Brotherhood is really upping their game. 
> 
> It has to get worse before it gets better. :(

WARNING: Some graphic descriptions of dead bodies. 

Charles woke before Erik the following day to steady knocking at the front door. He padded downstairs to meet Azazel on their front doorstep. 

“Corsair is missing,” the teleporter said as soon as Charles opened the door. 

“What?” Charles said blankly. 

“Missing. Corsair. She’s gone.” Azazel’s lips were pressed together in a thin line. 

“Are you sure, Azazel? She wasn’t in any of her hideaways?” Charles had known Corsair to be slippery enough to sneak away if she needed to. 

“I’m sure. I’d venture to say that I may know her just a tad better than you, so you can trust me.” 

“I’m just surprised that she disappeared with no warning.” Charles ushered the crimson-skinned man into the house and began kneading his right palm absently. 

“So am I, which is what makes me think it wasn’t her choice to disappear.” Azazel kicked off his shoes.

“God. Who would capture Corsair?” Charles led Azazel into the kitchen where he began preparing tea automatically, going through the motions without thinking much about them. The kettle began to heat up on the stove and Charles turned to his now-barefoot teleporting friend. 

“Has she been in contact with Shaw at all?” Charles knew it was probably a silly question, but it was worth asking. 

“Not that I know of. I mean she knew a lot of the people who would come to rallies and such, and maybe some of them were in league with Shaw.” Azazel folded his arms. “Look, Charles, whoever captured Corsair is probably good. Real good, like out-of-our-league good. She’s incredibly suspicious of everyone and for someone to get through all of her defenses and false trails as to where she usually spends the night--they’d have to be someone more than a little scary.” 

“No one’s out of our league.” 

“Yeah, you say that, but you haven’t met half of Shaw’s goons.” 

“And you have?” 

“Charles, please. I’m a teleporter who looks like everyone’s mental picture of the devil. Of course I’ve met Shaw’s goons, they’ve tried to recruit me more than once.” Azazel looked more than a little pleased with himself. 

“Right. Well. I assume you said no all those times, then?” Charles figured this was an easy question to skirt, but he couldn’t help himself. Azazel scoffed.

“What do you take me for? Of course I said no.” 

“Right. Of course. Sorry I asked.” Charles stared around the room, avoiding eye contact with Azazel. The boy had been more than trustworthy over the past several months, but something about his demeanor put Charles off a bit. 

It wasn’t that he seemed inherently like a traitor, but more that he was just so blasé all the time about the people he knew and didn’t seem to care about their affiliations at all. And Charles wanted so desperately not to care about the affiliations of the mutants he knew, but it was becoming more and more dangerous to know people inside the Brotherhood lest you get on their bad side and become the next target of one of their grisly murders.

Charles shuddered as he thought about the bodies of the missing New York State Assembly members turning up with their skin shredded and with chunks missing. It was precisely what he had feared would happen to people who had been captured by the Brotherhood, but part of him was hoping that he would be proven wrong and that there would be something they could do to reclaim the hostages without incurring further wrath from the Brotherhood. 

And now Corsair was missing...god, Charles didn’t want to think about what she’d look like at the hands of the Brotherhood executioners. 

“What’s on your mind, Charles.” Azazel patiently looked up at the professor. 

“I don’t know what to do.” Charles confessed. The teakettle began to boil, so he took it off the stove and began pouring two mugs of steaming hot earl grey. 

“About what?” Erik had entered the room. 

“Corsair is missing,” supplied Azazel. “Couldn’t find her last night when I was trying to deliver your evening update, been searching for her all night, then I came here when I couldn’t find her.” 

Erik took the teapot from Charles and poured himself a mug of tea as well. Charles knew the furrow in the man’s brow well, upset, but avoiding intense emotional reactions. 

“Is there a plan to find her?” Erik held his tea with both hands, warming himself. 

“Nope.” Azazel’s reply was percussive. “I haven’t a clue where she might be, and I don’t know anything about the Brotherhood, or at least, not enough to find her.” 

A pause. Erik pursed his lips and looked from Azazel to Charles. 

“You seem like this news isn’t that difficult for you to hear,” Erik locked his eyes onto Azazel, who didn’t flinch. 

“We’re essentially at war, thousands of mutants are in hiding, and a new body from Brotherhood kidnappings is turning up nearly every month. Forgive me if I’m not in tears and hysterics over one more disappearance.” Azazel shifted his weight onto his back foot. 

“But you two were close,” Erik countered. “You worked very closely with her with communications between the upstate and big city mutant groups, you’ve helped us with food distribution, and you’ve helped her maintain her own food supplies. Surely this means more to you than just another disappearance.” He seemed to grow slightly in stature as he spoke. Charles wasn’t sure whether or not to stop Erik from tearing into the small, crimson-skinned man. The brunette himself wasn’t entirely certain Azazel could be trusted. But he was also definitely not the type of mutant they wanted to alienate. So he didn’t say anything. 

“You can’t cry over every lost soldier, Erik. You have to press on to win the war.” Azazel spoke calmly. Erik’s jaw was set, and he looked like he didn’t quite believe Azazel’s rhetoric. But he said nothing further. 

“We’ll see what Raven and Kurt know,” he said shortly. “I trust you know where to find provisions for your journey home,” he addressed Azazel. Erik dropped his mug into the sink with a clatter and left the room. Charles followed him after telling Azazel to check in with them again later that evening. 

“Well, was that satisfying?” Charles asked Erik once they were safely enclosed in their bedroom. 

“No, not quite,” Erik spat, sitting in the center of their bed and breathing in a tense, measured way. 

“I don’t really trust Azazel either. But there’s little sense in alienating him.” Charles sat down next to Erik and rubbed his back. The taller man leaned into the touch, his breath slowing a little. 

“We should see what Raven and Kurt know, though,” Erik insisted. 

“I know. I’m going to head over to her and Hank’s suite to talk to them now, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t about to completely blow up on me.” He kissed Erik’s forehead. 

“You’re a sap. I’m fine.” Erik was smiling a bit though. Charles kissed him again, this time a little more lingeringly, and left the room to go find Hank and Raven. 

The door to their suite was shut, so Charles knocked gingerly before opening the door. To his great relief, they were sitting at the foot of their bed playing cards. 

“What’s up, Professor X?” Raven played several cards in rapid succession, slapped the top of the deck, and crowed with delight. Hank moaned and threw down his hand. 

“Egyptian Rats,” Hank explained. “She beats me every time.” 

“I do, I do,” Raven attempted a bow from her seated position, gave up, and turned to face Charles. “So what can I do for you, big brother?” 

“Corsair is missing.” 

“Shit. Corsair? Like, big bushy hair, could probably fight you and make the earth literally crumble around you Corsair?” 

“That’s the one,” Charles confirmed heavily. “Azazel’s just told us.” 

“Did they check with the Brotherhood’s bar network?” Raven took the deck of cards and started shuffling them vigorously. 

“No…” Charles said slowly. “I don’t remember you telling us that even existed.” 

“Of course I told you. You just weren’t listening because you and Freya were making cookies at the time and that child has got you wrapped around her finger like nothing else.” Raven cut the deck and started dealing hands again to Hank and herself. 

“Right. Of course.” Charles remembered that particular afternoon. Raven was right, he and Freya had been becoming closer over the past several weeks. 

“Look, here’s the address of the central place in the bar network. Brotherhood members aren’t often there, but they scout things out and will occasionally drop in for a drink. Do some of your mind-voodoo stuff and it might help you get some information out of them. Definitely don’t them know who you are.” Raven scrawled out a few lines on a post-it note and handed it to Charles. 

“Thanks, darling.” Charles kissed the note and blew the kiss to her. 

“Yeah, yeah. You love me.” Raven swept up her hand of cards and began eyeing Hank over the top of hers, as if trying to read what his hand was. They started laying down their cards in turn again, so quickly that Charles really couldn’t keep up, nor could he figure out how the hell that game even worked. Raven was quite a piece of work sometimes. But a shrewd, very loyal and helpful piece of work, he decided.   
_______________

Charles and Erik set off for the city that evening to check out the bar Raven had told them about. Charles had tried to convince Erik to stay back with the others, but the blonde had wanted to come along in case there was an opportunity for him to “drive a metal bar through some schmuck’s head.” Charles thought privately that there was no way he would let Erik do that, the man’s anger issues needed a lot of work and he would certainly not break their cover in an attempt to bring justice to kidnapping scum. 

“This the place?” Erik asked as the cab pulled up to a seedy-looking place next to a pawn shop. Charles looked down at the address on the post-it note. 

“Yep,” he said, the word dripping out of his mouth with a bit of distaste. They paid the cabbie and went inside. Charles touched two fingers to his temples briefly and shut his eyes. Once he opened them again, Erik nudged him to ask what he had done.

“Just disguising us,” Charles murmured. “You look like a high-strung pop star that everyone knows but can’t quite place, and I’m your bodyguard.” 

“Why do _you_ get to be the bodyguard?” Erik groused. “I’m much taller than you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Give it a rest, pop star.” Charles approached the bar and engaged the attention of a pretty bartender with straight red hair in a short cut. She stood with a commanding presence, something Charles recognized as protectiveness over whoever was in the bar. 

“Excuse me, ma’am, but I’m wondering if you know a Wanda Maximoff? It appears we have a friend in common and I’d like to chat with her about it.” Charles put on what he hoped was a beguiling smile, but the girl seemed unconvinced. 

“I’m Wanda Maximoff. What do you want,” She folded her arms and stood with her legs shoulder-width apart. A power stance, meant to intimidate Charles. It worked, slightly.

“Do you know the whereabouts of a woman called Corsair?” Charles cut right to the chase, if this girl wasn’t going to play games, then neither was he. 

“I might. But there’s not really a reason for me to tell you, is there.” The corners of her mouth twitched upwards and Charles gritted his teeth. So this was how it was going to be, huh? Great. He touched a finger to his temples again and switched their disguise. 

“My friend over there is interested in contributing to the Brotherhood in a financial way,” Charles told her. It was a lie, but he needed to move this forward. “But in order to do that, he needs to know where our friend Corsair’s been taken.” 

“Corsair’s whereabouts are not mine to divulge.” Wanda leaned back and smirked full-on this time. 

“Oh please,” Charles scoffed. “Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t reveal them for the right price.” 

“Don’t insult my loyalty.” She fixed him with a penetrating gaze, and Charles was suddenly flooded with an overwhelming awareness of her powers. Fear rose in his throat like bile and he shoved it back down as best he could, trying to keep up the facade of a bodyguard who thought money could make her talk. 

“What use is she to you anyways? Name a price, and we can see if we can work something out.” Charles steepled his fingers under his chin, waiting for a response. 

“Hmm, begging for her back. What is your connection to Corsair, exactly?” Wanda leaned forward and cradled her face in her hands, suddenly interested. Charles felt something pushing at the edge of his consciousness and shoved back as hard as he could. 

“She’s an old friend. I promised her I would ensure her safety.” He spoke carefully. 

“Well, you’ve done a bang-up job of it so far.” Wanda laughed once, a high, cold laugh. Charles left the bar and went to sit next to Erik in one of the booths. 

“Not getting anything from her, huh?” Erik scooted a minute amount towards Charles so they could feel one another’s warmth but not so much that anyone in the bar would notice they were touching. 

“I’m just going to take it from her,” Charles decided. “No more playing games, I’m just going to take the intel and then we can get the hell out of here.” He touched two fingers to his temple and shut his eyes. He pressed forward with his mind to the bar until he met Wanda’s. Her mind was shrouded in a dense scarlet shield, and Charles grew disoriented.

Brief scenes began flashing before him--Erik, limp and unconscious in front of him. Angel, spread-eagled between the trees at the Westchester property. Raven, strapped to an operating table with a figure looming over her. His breathing picked up until it was rapid and ragged. 

No, push. It’s not real. You have to push through. The scarlet shield turned to smoke, and Charles reached forward into her mind. He saw Corsair’s location jumping inside Wanda’s head, golden and elusive. It leapt side to side and up and down and Charles couldn’t follow it. 

He paused and stopped reaching. The golden location stopped jumping and settled down. Charles immediately pounced on it, and then withdrew rapidly from Wanda’s mind. His eyes snapped open. 

“Well?” Erik’s voice was suddenly brought into sharp relief beside him. “Well, what happened? Did you find her?” Charles nodded. His breathing was still quick and shallow. 

“We have to get back up to Westchester, now.” He grabbed Erik’s sleeve and they slid their way out of the booth. 

“Are you alright?” Erik asked as they moved, and Charles shook his head. 

“Not here,” he hissed. 

They left the bar without so much as a second glance towards Wanda. Charles had the sinking feeling she knew precisely what he was up to. His vision went somewhat scarlet around the edges, anger radiating towards him from Wanda. 

He hated that lingering feeling of connection after reading someone’s mind. It was always there after extracting information from anyone’s mind, and was strong enough that it usually discouraged him from doing it at all. But this was necessary, or so he tried to convince himself. This needed to be done. 

Corsair had her thumb on the heartbeat of much of the mutant community in New York, and if the Brotherhood were able to find out what she knew, thousands of mutants who sympathized with humans would be in danger of capture and subsequent death. 

Charles’s breathing had slowed once they got on the train. His heartbeat would not slow down, however, and Erik noticed right away. It was creeping into the wee hours of the morning, and the cabin was deserted, so Erik took both of Charles’ hands into his own. He massaged Charles’s palms and waited until he could feel his partner calm down. 

“Where is she, Charles.” 

Charles looked up at his partner, his eyes heavy.

“She’s going to blow up a school.”


	21. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Westchester mutants spring into action at the threat of the school bombing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finals season, and I am lame and irregular! Please enjoy. Thank you for reading. As always, comments are the fuel to my fire so please let me know what you think. <3 <3 <3

“What do you mean, she’s going to blow up a school?” Erik’s voice had risen to a shout. 

“The Brotherhood found out that she was sympathetic to the humans and was going to try to work for some kind of reconciliation in the wake of the Registration Act. She has such massive influence with the mutant community in New York, so they were afraid that she would be able to influence them all against the agenda of the brotherhood. So they’re going to send her into the primary school just a few miles from Westchester as soon as the day starts to blow it up.” Charles ran a hand through his hair. 

“It’s going to be public and big and tragic and worst of all everyone will know who Corsair is. They’ll all know that it was this mutant leader who was supposed to be a pacifist but it turns out she’s wildly violent and it’ll just further inflame mutant-human relations.” Charles exhaled this all in one breath, and the reality of it hit him once he was done. 

 

“Well, obviously we’re going to find her,” Erik said decisively. “We’ll just have to strategize with the mutants we have.” 

“What are we going to do with the mutants we have? How are we supposed to stop good old fashioned explosives? We’ve all got some pretty incredible abilities, Erik, but none of them involve defusing bombs!” Charles’ voice cracked a bit. Erik put an arm around Charles and drew him close. The smaller man laid his head down on Erik’s chest and listened to his partner’s heartbeat. 

“Raven can be on the lookout at the school for Corsair. She knows her, and we can have Raven replace the school security guard. That will be easy. Kurt can be standing by to teleport Corsair away from the school-” 

“So we just get her away from the action? We don’t try to save her at all?” Charles lifted his head up a little to look Erik in the eyes. “I can’t let her die.” 

“You may not have a choice.” Erik’s voice was crisp, but not unkind. They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the lights of the city flash by them and then fade into nothingness as the train exited the Big Apple and made its way further upstate, back towards Westchester. 

Kurt was waiting for them with the car once the train arrived. He greeted them in his typical overenthusiastic way, and said nothing when Charles and Erik sat in the backseat together and Charles laid his head in Erik’s lap for the entirety of the ride home. Charles thanked his lucky stars that Kurt was as wonderful and accepting as he was. Bit of a rarity. 

The living room light was on when they arrived back to Westchester. Raven and Hank were curled up together on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and dozing. They jerked awake when Charles, Kurt, Erik entered the room. 

“Did you find her?” Raven asked groggily. Charles suppressed a heavy sigh and pulled up a chair next to Raven and Hank and filled them in. They shook off their drowsiness quickly once the details set in. 

“Right, well, Raven should definitely replace the school security guard for the day. I can prowl around the perimeter of the school for added protection.” Hank was rubbing up and down Raven’s arms in a soothing manner, though she didn’t appear to be in need of soothing. Charles watched them for a moment, wondering how those two ever managed to fit together but thanking multiple deities that they did.

“I can handle that. What about Kurt, where’s he going to be?” Raven asked. They spent several more minutes hashing out the details of the next day-Kurt would be within radio distance and thereby allow Raven access to him. He would teleport in as soon as anyone saw Corsair. The rest of the mutants would stand by at various locations near the school-the supermarket, coffee shops, restaurants-ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Charles and Erik would run the operation from the mansion.

None of them could really sleep once they had finished talking, so Charles made everyone tea. They sat by the fire, staring into the flames and not saying much. Charles found the confidence to lean against Erik in the darkness of the living room (save the fire), and if Hank noticed, he didn’t say anything. They drank in one another’s presence. The feeling of camaraderie and solidarity in the face of danger was something Charles treasured and something he had sorely missed and wanted in his younger days. He hated that he had it now because of a war looming on the horizon, but it was a comforting feeling all the same. 

Eventually the night slowly started, and the fields outside of the house were lit by the rosy-fingered dawn as it crept into the sky. Charles woke Erik, who had fallen asleep on the couch, and Raven jerked awake as well. 

“Go time?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. Hank stirred behind her. 

“Go time,” Charles confirmed. Raven nodded and tied up her blonde hair into a knot at the top of her head. She left the living room and Charles heard clattering in the kitchen, probably her getting something to eat. She poked her head in a few minutes later and mumbled “I’m off”, mouth full of bagel. Moments later, Kurt greeted them and announced his own departure to the school. 

“I’ll go wake the students and tell them the plan,” Hank volunteered. He folded up his blanket and disappeared up the stairs. Erik rubbed his eyes. 

“I don’t know that this is going to work, Charles.” 

“Neither do I. But we have to do something.” 

“Even if it results in the death of your old friend?” 

A beat. 

“We don’t know that will happen.” 

“You’re avoiding the question.” Erik rested his chin in his hands and turned sideways on the couch to face Charles. “You have to be prepared for that eventuality.” 

“I’m trying to prepare myself. I just hate to see any of my mutant brothers and sisters be lost to the cause. I hate it. There’s no justification for any of us to die. None.” Charles heaved out a long breath. Erik didn’t say anything, but Charles knew he didn’t completely agree with that. Maybe Charles would get to a point where he believed in noble deaths, but right now all death was tragedy and he didn’t know how to get away from that. 

Charles looked around for his radio and found it on a table next to the couch. He radioed Raven. 

“How are things looking,” he asked, his voice low. 

“Fine, Charles, fine. Nothing yet, so don’t panic.” Raven’s voice was light and upbeat. Charles knew it was probably so she wouldn’t draw too much attention to herself, but he couldn’t help feeling a little resentful that she was able to hold herself together so much better than him. He scratched under his chin. 

“No one has entered the school?”

“Except for children and parents. No, no one has entered.” 

“Can I look?” 

“Charles, you know I don’t like it when you do that.” 

“But these circumstances are different, Raven. The stakes are higher.” Charles knew he was being invasive. But the desperate circumstances made his tightly-held ethics seem less important. 

“Fine. But only look out.” Raven’s voice had turned deeper and more masculine; Charles assumed it was the voice of the security guard. He handed the radio to Erik, and shut his eyes. Reaching into other people’s minds in order to borrow their eyes for a little while was a bit more of an undertaking than just taking information. He had to move gently, and settle himself into their shoes and look out of their eyes. It was a challenge, and he had only done it a few times before. Pressing forward, Charles quickly met Raven’s mind. It was sharp and spinning quickly, processing information at great speeds and maintaining her disguise. He sped up his own thoughts to try to match her, it would make the settling in easier. Once he felt he was more at her current speed, he pushed a little more and felt a strange dropping sensation as their consciousnesses merged. Charles opened his eyes, and he was seeing out of Raven’s. 

She was right. No one was coming in or out of the school at the moment. A parent was driving off in a blue sedan and there was vague activity coming from the left-but that was from a classroom. Not the intruder they were looking for. Charles did a complete visual sweep of Raven’s area, and then snapped back to Westchester with an uncomfortable crick in his neck. He shook his head a few times to rid himself of the dropping sensation. 

“Shit.” Raven’s voice came through on the radio, and Charles was pulled sharply back into the moment at Westchester. 

“What? Raven, what?” Charles fumbled with the radio and had to repeat the message a few times before he was sure it had gone over completely. Raven didn’t answer, but instead Charles heard screams coming from inside the school. 

“We have to go. Now,” he told Erik. He switched the channel on his radio. “Kurt? Kurt! Where are you? Raven needs backup, NOW!” Charles hastily pulled shoes on his feet while Erik pulled the car around. He clambered into the front seat and they sped off to the school. Erik parked the car across two spaces and they burst in the front door and saw a large group of students gathered in a room to their right. Charles tried to open the door, but was unsuccessful. Locked. 

“Out of the way,” Erik jostled him to the side, right hand spread wide. He clenched his fingers together slowly and the handle crumpled, leaving the door swinging wide open. 

Corsair was sitting in the middle of the classroom, clad in a bulky vest with explosives attached to the outside. She looked utterly terrified, an expression Charles rarely saw on her weathered face. Raven was standing at the front of the classroom, clearly mid-sentence to Corsair. She had transformed into her non-disguised appearance, and the young children in the classroom were half fixated on Raven’s blue skin, and half on the strange woman sitting in the middle of their room. Raven had gathered all the students behind her, a move that Charles thought was a nice gesture, but would do little to shield them if Corsair’s explosives went off. 

“Corsair. You don’t have to do this,” Raven was saying. “We can get you out of here. We can protect you from them, give you a safe place to live. This doesn’t have to be how everything ends.” Corsair shook her head violently, a few of her jet-black curls coming loose from the knot they were tied into atop her head. 

“You don’t understand,” she spoke in a slow, measured voice. “Shaw knows. He knows everything I know about you all at Westchester. He’s going to come for the mansion next if I don’t do this.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “Not that there’s a way out, anyways.” 

“Corsiar.” Charles’ voice was pinched. “There’s always a way out. Let us help you.” He took a few hesitant steps towards her, with Erik following close behind. 

“Stop.” Her command was harsh. “Stop.” She opened the top of the vest and wrenched down the thin undershirt she was wearing so that her breastbone was exposed. Something that looked like a pacemaker was attached to the outside of her chest, and wires were feeding out of it and beneath her skin. Charles bit his lip and tasted the coppery tang of blood. 

“It’s wired to my heartbeat,” she informed them. “It gets above 100 beats per minute,” she mimed an explosion. Charles exhaled and examined the monitor attached to her chest as best he could from his distance of a few paces away. 

“And you’re already at 85,” he observed. Corsair nodded. 

“Quite a pickle we’re in, eh Professor X?” Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence and she bit back a sob. 

“Right.” Raven spoke first. She enunciated slowly and in the most soothing voice she could manage, still shielding the children. “Right. Corsair, we’re going to figure this out. But first, we need to get the children out of here. Alright? Can we get the children out of here?” 

“No!” Corsair shouted. “If they leave, Shaw will trigger the explosion remotely. He’s got eyes everywhere, you don’t understand.” Her voice shook and she shut her eyes. A few tears leaked out and she wiped them away hastily, trying desperately to slow her breathing. 

“Alright, alright,” Raven motioned for Charles and Erik to take her place standing in front of the children. Kurt was at the door, and Charles waved him over to stand in front of the kids as well. Raven approached Corsair slowly and sat down next to her. This didn’t seem to agitate her too much. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Raven spoke gently, as though she were trying to get a small child to fall asleep. “Kurt is going to take you back to the mansion at Westchester. Hank has gone back there already to prepare the lab, and we’re going to figure out a way to get this off of you. We’re going to make you safe. Trust me.” She looked directly into Corsair’s eyes, and something in Raven’s intense yellow stare seemed to make Corsair trust her. The woman nodded. 

“Kurt,” Raven motioned for him to step forward, but didn’t take her eyes off Corsair. The woman started breathing deliberately and heavily again, and Charles watched her heart rate monitor tick up to 90.

“Raven,” Charles said warningly. 

“I know,” Raven answered. She put a hand on Corsair’s shoulder. “It’s fine,” she assured her. “It’s all fine.” Kurt reached the two of them and placed both of his hands on either of Corsair’s shoulders. Charles took Erik by the arm and rushed them out to the car to follow Kurt and Corsair back to the mansion as quickly as they could. 

They parked the car and sprinted inside and down the steps into the lab, where Hank was bent over Corsair on a makeshift operating table. Corsair had a mask over her face and her eyes were screwed shut. Hank noticed Charles staring at the mask on Corsair’s face.

“Nitrous oxide. Low dose. It’ll slow her heart rate enough for me to get a look at this device they’ve put in her.” He fiddled with the wires. After a few moments, he tugged gently at one of the wires feeding into Corsair’s chest. She jerked violently. Hank swore. “Damn. It looks like if I just sever the wires leading into her chest, it’ll just detonate anyways.” 

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Erik began in a tone of voice that indicated he would ask the question whether or not Hank minded, “how is it you know about this stuff anyways?” 

“I was a mechanical engineer and circuits guy before I went to school for genetics,” Hank informed him. “I’m better at genetics, but I’m not totally clueless. Besides,” he tapped his temple, “I learn fast. Benefit of the mutation. The longer I examine the bomb, the better I understand how it works.” He followed one of the wires from the pacemaker-looking device on Corsair’s chest to an explosive unit on the left side of the vest. Charles turned to Kurt, who was standing in the corner of the lab. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. The blue-skinned teleporter had his arms folded and his eyes trained on Corsair. 

“The gas will not last long enough,” he told Charles. “We will need another course of action.” 

“What do you mean? I don’t know that we have another course of action,” Charles said slowly. It dawned on him slowly what Kurt was planning to do. “Kurt, you can’t-” But before Charles could say another word, a loud and insistent beeping started to fill the room. Hank stopped what he was doing. 

Corsair’s nitrous oxide had run out, and the pacemaker on her chest was blinking red. She had reached 100 beats per minute and was ripping the mask off her face and motioning frantically for everyone to leave the room. Charles found himself rooted to the spot and everything else moving in frustratingly slow motion. Corsair threw the mask aside and leapt off of the table in order to make a run for the door. Kurt beat her to the punch and wrapped his arms around her and disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke just as her suit detonated. A few stray bits of shrapnel from the bomb rocketed off in the lab and careened into a lamp, shattering it. Everyone else in the lab was unharmed, but speechless. Kurt’s severed prehensile tail dropped out of the fading smoke with a sicking thud. 

Hank had a hand over his mouth and dragged it down to his chin, his eyes wide and his chest heaving. Erik was frozen in a position that looked like he was trying to disappear off to wherever Kurt and Corsair had gone, but as he realized he couldn’t, his eyes were filling with angry tears. Charles felt his jaw slowly harden and his own eyes well up. He backed up against the wall of the lab and sank to the ground. 

“Goddammit, Kurt,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands. 

The lab was silent. Raven came down the stairs, silent and quick on her blue feet, and she stared around at her speechless friends. 

“No,” she said. “No, no he didn’t. Where is Kurt.” Her voice was dangerous. “Where is he.” 

Charles waved a hand in what was supposed to be a n indication of Kurt having teleported away. 

“No,” Raven said again. “No, we were going to fix this. We were going to fix this. How did we not fix this?” She advanced on Hank, her eyes fiery. 

“There was nothing I could do, Raven.” Hank sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “Nothing. I had gas to keep her heart rate down but it spiked as soon as the gas ran out. Kurt thought fast and he left with her before she could-” he made a vague motion with his hands that was supposed to indicate an explosion. Charles lifted his face up from his hands in time to see a few large tears leak out of Hank’s eyes. Raven let out a roar of frustration, something Charles had only heard once before. She took Hank into her arms and the geneticist buried his face in her shoulder, unable to hold back his tears now. 

Charles pulled his knees up to his chest. Erik came and sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. Charles allowed himself to sink into Erik’s embrace, and something about the warmth and compassion in Erik’s touch caused him to dissolve into tears as well. Soon enough the lab was full of quiet sobs for the loss of two dear friends. They stayed in one another’s arms until the tears had passed. Charles was the first to look up. He stood and offered a hand to Erik to help him up. 

“We’d best cook dinner, then,” he said quietly. Erik nodded and bit the insides of his cheeks. His eyes were red. Charles couldn’t help taking his partner’s face into his hands and kissing his forehead, hating that another episode of pain had befallen Erik. They broke apart and blanched at Hank and Raven watching them. 

“He already knew,” Raven informed them. “He’ll keep your secret. Don’t worry.” She gave a small, watery little smile. Charles chuckled a little bit in spite of himself and turned his attention back to Erik. He took the blonde’s arm in his own, and they made their way upstairs together. 

Dinner with the other students was somber that evening. Hank cooked them all a gorgeous lasagna, but everyone barely touched their food. 

“So there’s no chance he could-” asked Angel, but she was cut off by Erik.

“No. There’s no chance.” Erik cut up a piece of his meat and made to eat it but then reconsidered and put it back down. 

“Damn.” Angel looked down at her lasagna. Sean put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed it gently. She didn’t seem to mind the touch. Charles reached for the remote control for the kitchen television and turned it on. 

“In a shocking turn of events, a group of mutants have saved an entire school full of young children from an explosion perpetrated by the Brotherhood group.” 

The blonde news anchor looked a bit stunned at the news she was relaying. Charles sat forward in his seat, ears perking up. 

“At around 8:30 this morning, a woman came into the Westchester primary school with a vest that had multiple explosives attached to it. She walked in to the most crowded classroom and stood in the middle of it, and informed everyone that the vest would detonate if any of them tried to leave. It was then that a mutant disguised as a security guard took her true form and began trying to negotiate with the bomber.” 

“True form. God, what do they think I am, an alien?” Raven scoffed. Her mood seemed to be lifting a touch at the news. 

“To them, you may as well be,” Charles informed her. She shrugged her shoulders. The news anchor continued. 

“Other mutants later arrived on the scene-and this is the incredible part, folks-one mutant disappeared from the enclosed room with the bomber, allowing the children to get home safely to their parents.” The news anchor wore an expression of astonishment as she replayed the classroom CCTV footage of Kurt teleporting away with Corsair. The mutants in the kitchen all tensed a bit at the footage of their departed friends. 

“This unexpected turn of events in the ongoing saga of human-mutant relations has caused quite a stir,” the anchor was saying. “Several congresspeople have come out in support of repealing the Mutant Registration Act altogether. Next week’s agenda at the State Assembly will be to consider a recall vote.” 

A murmur rippled around the kitchen in Westchester. This was big news. The anchor went on about some of the details regarding the repeal vote, but no one was listening at this point. Hank was openly weeping in Raven’s arms, and she herself couldn’t help a few tears from leaking out as well. Erik was in a state of shock, and Charles had to shake him gently a few times to get him to talk. 

“There’s no way the repeal will go through,” Erik asserted.

“You don’t know that.” Charles couldn’t keep a little bit of chastisement out of his voice. 

“I know humans. I know how they fear mutants and I know how they’d rather keep us controlled than let us go free.” 

“We’ve just proved to them that we’re here for their good just as much as our own. Things might change, Erik.” Charles rubbed the taller man’s back. “Better things might be on their way.” Erik didn’t respond, but something softened in his eyes. If Charles wasn’t mistaken, it looked a little bit like hope.


	22. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mutants deal with the aftermath of the near-bombing of the school. Raven makes a very big decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very long, drawn-out fic. It was harder and more enjoyable to write than I imagined. If you've stuck with me, thank you so so much. The comments have given me joy and I just appreciate the support so much. 
> 
> Depending on how things go, there may be a brief sequel at some point based on the events in this chapter. 
> 
> Come find me on the [tumblr](www.ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com) machine and tell me all your fluffy cherik headcanons.

Raven hated seeing Hank so broken up. In general, he was quite in touch with his emotions and that was something Raven loved about him. He was never ashamed to jump up and down over things he liked or cry over things that upset him. It made him a wonderful partner to have and it encouraged Raven to greater levels of expressiveness. The drawback of Hank being so emotionally expressive was that he was touched on a deeper level than most when it came to tragedy. It had been about two weeks since Corsair and Kurt’s death, and Hank was only just starting to get out of bed in the morning without constant wheedling on Raven’s part to get up and face the day. He swung his feet over to hang off the side of the bed that morning and stared at the ground. Raven sat behind him and began massaging his shoulders.

“There was nothing else you could have done,” she murmured to him as she did every morning. “You are a hero. You were so brave to do what you did for Corsair.” Hank leaned into her touch and exhaled heavily. 

“I think I’m going to apply to work in government,” he said out of the blue. Raven stopped with her massage and maneuvered herself so she was sitting next to Hank instead of behind him. 

“What brought this on?” 

“They’ve been discussing the repeal of the Registration Act for two weeks now, and it looks like it may go through. The congresswoman for our district is looking for a consultant and general office manager, so I thought I’d apply. Can’t hurt to have a mutant working in the government to advocate for our needs.” Hank’s voice was dull but there was a small note of assurance in it, as though he’d been considering this for quite some time. Raven actually felt a welling up in her chest born out of pride in her partner. 

“I am so proud to know you, Hank.” Her voice came out a little smaller and a little more choked up than she had anticipated, but she meant the praise nonetheless. Hank cracked a bit of a smile and looked her in the eyes. 

“Really?” 

“Really. You’ll get that job, no problem, and then you’ll make history as the first mutant in government and it’s going to be just fantastic. Come here.” She drew him into a hug and tried to communicate the love she was feeling at the moment that she couldn’t quite put into words. Hank seemed to get it, though. He always understood her a little better than everyone else. 

“Thanks, Raven.” They broke apart and Raven cupped Hank’s face in her hands. She didn’t say anything. 

“Want to come and cook breakfast with me?” he asked, and Raven immediately agreed. Hank was a far better cook than she would ever be, but he was great fun to cook with as he took the time to explain everything he was doing far more meticulously than he needed to. Raven always managed to pick up a few cooking tips for herself, though she didn’t really need them because Hank was more than happy to make enough for her. It was just good quality time, was all. 

They set about making pancakes. Hank’s face fell back into its stony exterior that had become the norm after Corsair and Kurt’s death, but he moved with a little bit of a spring in his step as he instructed Raven in properly mashing up bananas to put in the pancakes and scolded her for putting in too many chocolate chips. She quickly retorted that there was no such thing as too many chocolate chips, to which he reluctantly agreed. 

Charles came shuffling into the kitchen rubbing his eyes once the first pancake was on the griddle. 

“You smelled the cooking, huh big brother?” Raven teased Charles. He used to be much more of a morning person than this, but she supposed running a school of his own was probably a more exhausting undertaking than she was aware of. She also privately hoped that he was tired for other reasons, hopefully Erik-related reasons, but Erik had also been hit hard by Kurt and Corsair’s passing. 

“Ah, well, you know me, Raven. Can’t resist a good pancake.” Charles bent over their griddle and inhaled deeply, giving a little sigh of satisfaction at the smell. 

“You can have the first one,” offered Hank as he flipped over the pancake. Charles rubbed his hands together and took down a plate from the cupboard.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Hank.” Charles clapped the geneticist on the back. The pancake finished cooking and Hank scooped it onto Charles’s plate, who immediately slathered it in peanut butter and topped it off with a healthy helping of maple syrup. 

“Do you want some pancake with your maple syrup?” Raven observed. Charles stuck his tongue out at her. 

“Syrup is half the fun, Raven. Don’t kill my fun.” 

“I worked hard on that pancake, I mashed up two whole bananas!” Raven protested, folding her arms. 

“That’s why I need the maple syrup. Have to get rid of that banana taste.” Charles dipped a finger in the maple syrup on his plate and sucked it off noisily. Raven pushed his shoulder and he went to sit at the kitchen table with a little giggle. 

“You’re the worst,” she informed him. 

“You love me.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Raven scooped up another cupful of pancake batter to put on the griddle while Hank observed. 

“Anything exciting on the class agenda today, Charles?” asked Hank. 

“Nothing too big.” Charles’s mouth was full of pancake. “I’d just like them to review basic Darwinian principles before I give them an exam on all of that.” 

“An exam?” Raven turned to Charles and folded her arms. “Rude.” 

“Please, you know that the best way to assess knowledge gained is via an exam, Raven.” Charles chastised her, shoveling more pancake into his mouth. Raven rolled her eyes. 

“Might be good for them to have a field trip, or a weekend away, or something,” suggested Hank, flipping the second pancake over. Charles nodded and finished off his pancake. 

“Yeah, everyone could really use a break,” he agreed. The brunette stroked at the stubble he had grown overnight, considering their options. “Ice skating?” he suggested. “Seeing a show in the city? Everyone loves a good musical.” 

“We should take them to Radio City Music Hall!” Raven cut in enthusiastically. “Everyone loves the Rockettes.” 

The remainder of the students eventually made their way into the kitchen, and Hank slowly accumulated a larger and larger pile of pancakes that he distributed to the mutants as they came. Raven handled the talking to the students, and got them on board for a trip to the music hall. They had all been in various states following the events at the primary school, and Raven was ready to see their grief lift a little. 

It wasn’t that the events weren’t worth grieving. No, Kurt had been a fantastic friend to her and Corsair was an incredibly important leader in the mutant community. But everyone needed a lift once in awhile.  
____  
The Rockettes show put everyone in a great mood, and Raven stared around happily at her gathered mutant family at a crepes joint just outside of the theatre. Angel and Sean were huddled together, bent over a nutella and banana crepe, whispering to each other and giggling. Raven smirked. At some point those two would have to stop dancing around each other. Charles and Erik were sitting side by side, watching the students eating their crepes with expressions of vague relaxation on their faces. Good. Those two worked harder than anyone Raven had ever known at preserving other people’s safety and happiness. And bless them for it. But the time was drawing near for them to find their own happiness. Raven hated seeing them like this, side by side, wanting to be in one another’s arms, but holding back. Some things took time, she supposed. 

“What’s on your mind?” Hank approached where she was sitting with two plates of nutella crepes in his hands. Raven took one of them and dug in immediately. 

“God, you are a gem. I adore you.” She found herself effusive with praise as her mouth was stuffed full of nutella. Hank laughed.

“I should bring you crepes all the time, shouldn’t I.” He sat next to her and cut out a piece of his own crepe rather daintily. Raven scoffed. 

“Dude, if you’re going to enjoy your crepes by cutting them up like that then I will eat yours for you.” She made to grab his plate, but he snatched it away before she could. 

“Shut up, I’ll eat it how I want to eat it.” Hank placed the neatly cut piece of crepe into his mouth and turned up his nose at Raven. She sighed. 

“You’re hopeless sometimes.” 

“You love me.” 

“Yeah, I guess I do.” She wiped her mouth and folded her arms. “I guess I do,” she said again. Hank cut another piece of crepe and ate it. 

“So you going to tell me what you were thinking about just then?” he asked. Raven shrugged. 

“I just like this, is all.” 

“Like what?” 

“This. Us. Everyone together. Feels right.” Raven gestured around at their gathered group. Hank smiled. 

“I like it too.” He leaned back in his chair and watched the other mutants chatting for a few moments. 

“Do you want things to stay like this? I mean, I don’t know, just--this. Crepes. And everything.” Raven was stumbling over her words. Hank watched her with mild amusement. 

“Sure, Raven, of course I want things to stay like this. I love the way everything works when we’re together. I love this life.” He took her hand. 

“Even after-after, well you know. After all that?” She looked into Hank’s kind, brown eyes. They grew a little heavy at the mention of recent events, but stayed steadily connected to hers. 

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Even after all that.” They sat there for a few moments, holding hands and looking at each other. 

Raven was so well aware that she was looking at Hank with all the goopiness of a leading lady in a romantic comedy, but she didn’t care. Something about being with him felt right. It had for quite a long time, and she felt like she was ready to do something about that. 

“What would you think if we got married?” The words tumbled out of Raven’s mouth much faster than she had anticipated, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Hank’s eyes widened. 

“Seriously?” He searched her golden eyes for some sign that this had been a mistake, some sign that she didn’t mean what she had just said. He found none.

“No, I mean it,” Raven answered. “I think I’m ready for that. I mean I’ve known that I want to spend my life with you for awhile, I just wasn’t sure I wanted to formalize it, and-well, could you say something?” Hank was looking at her with a little smile playing at the corners of his lips and it was making her nervous. 

“Yeah, I think I’m ready for that too,” he answered, his voice suddenly very soft. Raven swallowed hard, and Hank pulled her into a kiss right there in front of everyone in the shop. They broke apart after a few moments. 

“Miss Raven Darkholme,” Hank only pulled away enough to be able to speak. “Did you just propose to me?” Raven grinned.

“I think I did, Mr. Hank McCoy. Was that a yes?” She wound her hands in the scarf hanging around his neck and Hank nodded. She pulled him down into another kiss which was quickly followed by titters from the other students. They had caught their attention. Whoops. 

“God, get a room!” Angel complained, but she was grinning. Raven stuck her tongue out at Angel. 

“I’ll kiss my fiance when I like, thanks very much,” she retorted. The creperie went silent. Charles’s eyes had gone wide and a huge smile was spreading across his face. 

“F-fiance?” he spluttered. “FIANCE?” He leapt up from his seat next to Erik and dashed over to where Hank and Raven were sitting. “This is fantastic! This is utterly fantastic!” he shouted, drawing them both into as big a hug as he could manage, being shorter than both of them. Raven wrapped her arms around Charles and Hank and grunted as the rest of the mutants started to pile themselves around the three of them into a massive group hug. She coughed pointedly. 

“I’m choking, guys.” 

Charles sniffled into her hair. “We’re just so thrilled for you.” Raven held back a scoff at Charles’s cheesiness and allowed the embrace to continue. They eventually broke off and returned to their tables. 

“So when is the wedding going to be?” asked Charles, still standing in front of Raven and Hank and regarding them with a level of affection that would have made Raven uncomfortable if she hadn’t grown up with Charles and known him to be quite effusive when he put his mind to it. She and Hank looked at each other. 

“Well, um, given that we only came to this conclusion a few minutes ago, there are no wedding plans yet,” Hank told Charles kindly. Charles shook his head.

“Right. What am I thinking. Of course not. I’m sorry, I’m just so excited for the two of you.” He placed a hand on each of their cheeks and grinned before going back to sit with Erik. The chatter amongst the mutants resumed for a few minutes as everyone finished up their crepes. 

“So when do you want there to be a wedding?” Hank ventured, taking another bite of his crepe. Raven mulled that one over for several moments before answering. 

“It feels a little...just...well, you know how much Charles would like to be married, and he…” she trailed off. The thought hadn’t occurred to her earlier, but Charles’s reaction brought it to the forefront of her mind. Hank considered her response. 

“No, I understand that,” he said. “So what do you want to do about it?” Raven sighed. There wasn’t really a good solution. 

“Maybe go pick up a marriage license at city hall, have an afterparty with the students, and then save the ceremony for when more of us can tie the knot?” she suggested. Hank seemed to like the idea. 

“Yeah,” he said enthusiastically, “then I could bake a cake or something and we could save money on catering! I like this plan, then I don’t have to rent a tux.” 

“And I don’t have to go dress shopping,” said Raven, relieved. She held up a fist to Hank, who bumped it. 

“We are a good team, you and I,” he remarked. Raven grinned at that. 

“Yeah. We are.”   
_____

Charles managed to convince Raven to let him accompany them to the courthouse where they got their marriage license. She protested at first, but Charles knew her well enough to know that she wanted him there on such a big day in her life. He cried when they signed their names at the bottom of the marriage license, and Raven again feigned extreme annoyance, but kissed Charles on the cheek after he made an emotional speech in the courthouse about how much he loved them and how happy they were going to be together. Charles couldn’t help it. He had waited a long time for Raven to find someone to make her happy for the rest of her life, and she had finally found it.

It was all he ever wanted, really. To see people this happy.


End file.
